


Tempting Fate

by GoldenFinches



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Harry Potter Book Five, Horcruxes, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Maybe - Freeform, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Resurrection, kind of, no relationships - Freeform, writing whilst on painkillers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4946260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenFinches/pseuds/GoldenFinches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a fine line between life and death. Between good and evil. Between love and hate. And between family and enemies.<br/>There's also a line between being a prodigal genius and being incredibly stupid. Regulus Black is about to get a lesson on how to walk all of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Idiot Brother

The Order of the Phoenix was sitting at the long dining room table in Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The members of the Order that were present consisted of Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Bill Weasley, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody, and Nymphadora Tonks. The rest of the people eating dinner were made up of teenagers by the names of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Fred and George Weasley, and Ginny Weasley.

With Harry's trial tomorrow he wasn't as happy as he usually was when with the Weasley's and co., neither was anyone else for that matter. They ate their meal in silence and would have continued to if there wasn't a thud that came from the next room.

Instantly everyone had their wands out and the members of the Order rose up. After glancing quickly at the children Remus spoke, "You all stay here, we'll check it out." He looked at his former Headmaster for his agreement and led the group of adults out of the room after getting a nod of approval. As soon as the wizards had left the room the teenagers looked at each other. Without saying a word they all nodded simultaneously and hurried quietly after the others, their wands held out readily in front of them.

They were about to enter the room in which the Order members had disappeared when a voice stopped them. "No...it can't be," the unmistakable voice of Sirius managed to croak out. "It can't be..." This was all the small group of kids needed to continue after their superiors.

What they found in the room, it was a type of living room, was a circle of people surrounding...something. Managing to squeeze their way in between the adults, the teenagers looked at whatever was lying on the floor in front of them.

"We told you all to stay behind!" Molly shrieked at her children and their friends. But no one paid attention to her, they were too busy gazing at the thing before them. Harry looked up at his godfather and was surprised to find his face deathly pale, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Sirius?" Harry asked. "Sirius, are you okay?" There was no answer. Just silence.

"Who is that?" Fred asked, directing the question at his father. Arthur looked up at his son, but he didn't answer. "I don't know," he replied honestly. None of the other Order members spoke up, although Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly. It was Sirius who finally spoke.

"He's my brother," he whispered it so quietly that everyone had to strain to hear him. But they heard him all the same. Harry looked down at the boy at his feet once more.  
He couldn't have been older than eighteen, but he looked a lot like Sirius. He was a lot smaller in stature, but he was just as handsome. His hair was definitely shorter and neater than Sirius's, but was the same shade of black. And if his eyes were open they would have been the same gray as his brother's. He was wearing a simple white v-neck t-shirt and blue jeans. He didn't have any shoes on and his feet poked out from under the jeans. He wasn't smiling, but wasn't frowning either. He just looked...peaceful.

"But...Sirius, your brother's dead," Remus said gently.

"Yeah," Sirius let out a dry, hollow sounding laugh, "yeah, I know." Tonks knelt down next the body and warily placed two of her fingers against the boy's throat.

"No pulse," she stated. The rest of the Order and co. looked at Sirius pityingly.

"He's a Death Eater?" Ron broke the silence. Everyone followed his eyes down to the dead teenager's left arm.

"He was, yeah," Sirius answered hoarsely. "He tried to get out of it, got in too deep. Or so I heard. No one just leaves the Death Eaters. He was killed because of that, the idiot. No one ever found his body."

The gathered few gazed down at Sirius's brother, confused. Hermione finally voiced what they'd all been thinking.

"If they never found his body," she started slowly, looking up at Sirius hesitantly, "then how did he get here?" No one had an answer for her.

"I brought him." Everyone spun around to face the direction the voice had come from. There, in the doorway, stood a very beautiful woman wearing a light blue and green gown with tapered sleeves and long brown hair. A spell fired from someone's wand hit her, but seemed to dissolve as soon as it hit her skin.

"That won't work on me," she said. Her voice was as pretty as she was, soft and kind, too.

"Who are you?" Dumbledore asked. How the heck was he remaining so calm? No one knew.

"My name is Fate," she said stepping forward. The group unconsciously parted to let her through. She knelt down next to Sirius's brother and brushed his hair out of his face.

"Hey! Just what do you think-," Sirius began sharply.

"Poor little Regulus," Fate murmured, interrupting Harry's godfather, "he died so young. Barely eighteen."

She straightened up, directing her gaze towards Sirius. "Died with his own brother hating him."  
"How dare-," but once again he was cut off.

"Died without anyone knowing how, why, or what he died for," Fate continued. "Died all alone in the dark with no one there to save him. Without his big brother to protect him."

This time Sirius didn't say anything, just glared defiantly at the woman. "You don't know the real story, the true story of Regulus Arcturus Black. There's more to him than meets the eye. He wasn't just your parents' perfect little son. He wasn't just an obedient Death Eater. He wasn't just something you left behind when you ran away. He was so much more."

"What do you mean "left behind"?" Sirius was able to say this without Fate interrupting him this time. She smiled in response.

"Yes, poor little Regulus," she repeated. "Abandoned by his brother who swapped one family for another. Switching him for James. Leaving without saying goodbye, leaving Regulus all alone. Poor, poor Regulus Black."

About now everyone was at least slightly confused if not way more. Sirius was the same, yet he looked a little guilty and very sad. Sadder than Harry had ever seen him.

"When did you two drift apart?" Fate asked sharply, turning back to the dog animagus.

"What?"

"You and Regulus were close as children, were you not?" Fate continued. "When did you drift apart?"

"When I was sorted into Gryffindor, I suppose," Sirius answered slowly, not really sure what was going on.

"No, no, no," Fate shook her head, still smiling. "You're wrong there. Come on Sirius, you must remember."

Judging by his face, Sirius did not remember. The rest of the gathered people looked at him curiously, but he just shrugged in an "I-don't-know-what's-going-on-either" kind of way.

"You were right, it was at a sorting," Fate stepped away from Sirius and looked down at Regulus, "but not your own."

"What are you talking about?" Sirius inquired hoarsely. Fate just continued smiling.

"Maybe this will jog your memory," she said innocently. Fate snapped her fingers and a voice filled up the room, seemingly coming from everywhere at once.

"Siri, what are you talking about?"

"Reggie...," Sirius whispered. That had been his baby brother's voice. He didn't sound very old, probably around eleven. Yes, Sirius did remember this, and he remembered his response.

"I don't associate with filthy snakes!"

Sirius hung his head, not willing to meet anyone's eyes.

"Poor Regulus," Fate shook her head. "He was so excited to come to Hogwarts. To spend time with you again. He wrote to you your first year, but you stopped writing back. Then you didn't come home for Christmas. You didn't come out of your room during the summer except to go to your new friends' houses. And then that happened. He didn't push you away Sirius, you pushed him away."

Fate waited until Sirius had raised his head again to continue. "And then...then you left."

To say that Sirius looked guilty would be an understatement. He looked broken, like all those years of guilt had come crashing down on him and had buried him in a pile of "what if's" and "what could have been's". "What do you want?" The hurt in his voice made Harry want to throw his arms around his godfather. But he didn't. Now was not the time.

"Regulus learned a lot from watching you," Fate ignored Sirius. "He learned that love is conditional, that his parents could turn on him at anytime. He learned that being different is wrong. He learned that having your own thoughts on something was punishable. So he kept his head down, kept his mouth shut. But he kept his eyes and ears open. He saw and heard what others didn't. He knew things. Things you didn't think he knew. Things that could have, and did, get him killed."

Sirius and everyone else were thoroughly confused and intrigued at this point. "He knows things that could help you."

"Knows?" Mr. Weasley spoke up for the first time since the woman had come in. "As in present tense?" Fate continued smiling just as Dumbledore's eyes continued twinkling.

"There's a lot about your brother you don't know, Sirius," Fate smiled at the older Black sibling. "he had secrets, many, many secrets. And who knows? Maybe some will be worth finding out. But there's a catch. You can't ask him, he needs to tell you, otherwise he'll die again."

"Again?" Sirius sputtered. What the crap was going on?

"Yes, again," Fate nodded. She knelt down next to Regulus once more. "Poor Regulus. Regulus who did what he was told. Regulus who tried to please his parents. Regulus who was nice to house-elves. Regulus who just wanted his big brother back."

Everyone was still very confused and now slightly scared. Except for Dumbledore, who just kept twinkling away without a care in the world.

"Regulus Arcturus Black," Fate murmured quietly. She dipped her head down and placed her lips on the boy's forehead, kissing him. "R.A.B." And with that she disappeared, still smiling.

"What the bloody hell just happened?!" Ron asked, looking wildly around at everyone.

"Look!" Ginny yelled before anyone could answer her brother.

They were all shocked to see that Regulus's clothes had changed so that he was now wearing a black, button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans that weren't as loose as the pair before. His feet were now covered in black, dragon-hide boots. His face was now gaunt and sickly looking, almost dead-like. The main difference though, was that he was now drenched completely in water. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead and he didn't look as peaceful as he had before, he just looked dead.

"Was that how he looked when he died?" Mrs. Weasley whispered, as if she was afraid to ask.

"I'm afraid so Molly," Dumbledore confirmed everyone's suspicions.

"Then how the heck did he die?" Sirius breathed. "That certainly wasn't done by the killing curse."

"Judging by the amount of water, I'd say he was drowned," Dumbledore deducted reasonably.

"Drowning doesn't exactly seem like Voldemort's style," Remus's words caused some in the room to flinch.

"No, it doesn't," Dumbledore agreed, "but as Fate said, there is more to Sirius's brother than meets the eye."

"Who was Fate?" Harry finally spoke.

"Exactly who she said she was, Fate," Dumbledore said simply.

"Fate. As in destiny?" Bill questioned.

"Yes, precisely," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Why would Fate want to bring as the body of some Death Eater?" Mad Eye said gruffly. Sirius's eyes turned angry at this statement, but he didn't say anything.

"Weren't you listening?" Dumbledore said. "He knows something that can help us. Only, we can't ask him, he must tell us."

"Tell us? Tell us how?!" George's eyes were wide. "He's dead!"

Then, something extremely weird happened. Extremely. Regulus's body began to lift off the floor with...well, with nothing helping it. He stopped moving when only the tip of his head and his feet were brushing the floor. His mouth parted slightly and sucked in air. As in he breathed. A dead person breathed! His body hit the floor with everyone's mouths' round in shock.

Then he moved. He freakin' moved! Regulus rolled over onto his hands and knees and started hacking up water. No one did anything, no one dared. Regulus was too busy spewing water all over the wooden floor to notice them. When he'd finished emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor, Regulus rolled over once again, this time curling in on himself. His eyes were shut tight in pain and his breath came out ragged and erratic. Everyone just kind of stood there awkwardly, pointing their wands at him.

When Regulus had finally calmed down and seemed to be in less pain he slowly brought himself to his knees with his head bowed. He lifted his hands up to see them, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief. He moved his fingers one at a time and he tested out his wrists, twisting his hands this way and that.

"This...this isn't right," he managed to say hoarsely. It was like he hadn't used his voice in years, which he hadn't. "I'm...I'm not supposed to be alive."

It was then that he looked up to find a wand pointed directly between his eyes. Regulus raised his hands in the universal "I-mean-no-harm" gesture.

"Um...hi?" he said sheepishly.


	2. What a Predicament We're In

"Who are you?" Mad Eye growled menacingly down at the soaked eighteen year old in front of him.

"I don't really think I should tell you that," Regulus stated. He didn't know what was going on, but he wasn't going to give away any information. He should be dead and he wasn't, he had to be careful.

"Answer the question boy!"

"I really, really think I shouldn't," Regulus repeated. Staring at the tip of this man's wand was really starting to make his crossed eyes hurt. He uncrossed them and looked at the other people surrounding the weird eyed man. There was a red headed plump woman, a red headed man, another red headed man with his hair pulled back in a ponytail, to identical red haired teenage boys, and a man that Regulus knew. A man with a long white beard and blue robes.

"Dumbledore?" Regulus couldn't stop the word from escaping his lips.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling still. "And you are Regulus Black, correct?"

Regulus didn't say anything, a million thoughts were running through his head. If Dumbledore was here than these people must belong to The Order, right? If they figured out who he was then they'd kill him. Although, it seemed Dumbledore knew. Then again, he knew everything. _Well, not_ everything, Regulus admitted to himself.

Screw it. He nodded.

"Good, good," Dumbledore said brightly. "Please, Mr. Black, stand up."

He was outnumbered, drenched, weak, tired, and possibly sick. What choice did he have? Regulus stood up slowly, glancing warily at the gnarled wand still pointed between his eyes. He then directed his attention back at his old headmaster. With a flick of his wand and a smile Dumbledore quickly removed the water from Regulus.

"Thanks," Regulus murmured. He had always prided himself in his ability to remain calm and had to suppress a small smile when he didn't stutter.

"Now, Regulus, do you know how you got here?" Regulus was surprised at the use of his first name, but answered nonetheless.

"Not really, sir." Well, it was the truth.

"I thought not," the old man nodded. "What do you remember?"

_ Like I'm gonna tell you! _ Regulus laughed internally. "I don't remember much."

"You said early that you were supposed to be dead?" Dumbledore reminded him. _Crap._

"Well, yeah," Regulus agreed. "I thought I was dead. I remember water, I guess. I think I drowned." _There,_ Regulus thought _, that was vague enough. Right?_

"We assumed so." Right, we... The others gathered there were currently staring at Dumbledore as if he'd gone insane. He was talking civilly with a Death Eater, so...

"Perhaps we should continue this conversation in the dining room?" Dumbledore looked around expectantly. No one said or did anything. The old wizard smiled. "Good, good." He lead the rest of the assembled people out of the small room. Or, rather, he meant to. The Order members just kind of stared at each other before reluctantly following their leader. Mad Eye's wand never left Regulus's back as he herded him into the dining room.

Once in the room Regulus was shoved rather roughly into a seat between the crazed man who kept sticking a wand in his face and a woman with bubblegum pink hair that didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements. He couldn't really blame her.

"Do you think this wise Dumbledore?" Did that man live on a diet of gravel or was his voice just naturally that rough? "He's a Death Eater!"

"I think we'll be fine," Dumbledore stated calmly, waving away the other man's concerns. "Regulus hasn't given us reason to worry yet." All eyes were back on Regulus, causing him to feel quite uncomfortable. Silence fell amongst the group of people, giving Regulus time to study the new people he had previously had his back turned to.

There were four more teenagers there. A young red haired girl, a red headed boy, a girl with bushy brown hair, and lastly a bespectacled scrawny boy with rather familiar messy black hair. The rest of the adults consisted of a tired looking man with sandy brown graying hair who looked oddly familiar and another familiar face framed with long black hair. Those gray eyes were so familiar, and the way he was looking at Regulus...he snapped his head back to look at Dumbledore.

The whole time Regulus had been examining the group no one had spoken. Or moved. It was kind of creepy. Finally someone broke the silence.

"So, Dumbledore, what do you suggest we do?" the graying man spoke. God, even his voice was familiar!

"Well, I believe would should inform Mr. Black of his predicament," the old man started. "After that I suggest he stay here until we figure out what we should do." Silence fell again. This time it was Regulus who spoke up.

"I'm sorry," he began, much to the others' surprise, "but where is "here"? And why do I have to stay here?"

"I'm sure you recognize this place, my boy," Dumbledore smiled. Regulus actually looked at the room for the first time...oh crap.

"Grimmauld Place?" Regulus's eyes widened incredulously when Dumbledore nodded. "How the...how did you get in?"

"You are staying here because we need to keep an eye on you," Dumbledore answered his previous question, completely Regulus's new one. Despite the situation the young Black rolled his eyes.

"And what "predicament" am I in?" he asked.

"This may come as a shock to you," Dumbledore spoke softly, "but you have been dead for sixteen years."

Regulus stared at the old man as if he'd lost his mind. Which, in Regulus's head, he had.

"Well then, that's nice," Regulus smiled. "If that's all, I'll be going. You know, back to reality." He got up to leave and figure out what the _hell_ was going on, but Mr. I Need To Go To Anger Management shoved him back down again.

"You're not going anywhere, boy," he growled. Regulus was really started to hate this guy.

"I know it seems crazy, but it's true," the familiar man with graying hair tried to assure him. It didn't work one bit.

"I can't have died," Regulus tried to remain calm. "I mean, I know I did, but you can't bring someone back to life!" He looked at the others sitting around the table, but none of their faces gave any answers away. The man with the long black hair wouldn't even look him in the eye.

"I didn't think so either," Dumbledore said, "but you are proof that it is possible to revive the dead."

"Proof!?" Regulus sputtered. "I'm the one who needs proof!"

"Ah, yes, of course," Dumbledore nodded. "I thought you might." _Might? Might!?_ Regulus screamed inside his head. _He truly is insane._ "What kind of proof would you like?"

"If this is truly Number 12 Grimmauld Place, then...," Regulus trailed off before (gently of course) screaming. "Kreacher!"

In less than one second there was a small *pop* and a figure appeared before Regulus. The house-elf that was now crying profusely while standing on the dining room table was undoubtedly Kreacher. he had the same large nose, bloodshot eyes, and bat-like ears. Yes, his ears were droopier now, he had less hair than ever, and there were more folds in his skin, but it was still Kreacher. Regulus Black's forever faithful house-elf.

"Master Regulus!" Kreacher wailed. "Kreacher is sorry! He tried to save Master, but Master told him to leave! Kreacher was only following orders, sir! Kreacher is sorry Master!"

"Kreacher! Kreacher it's okay! It's okay!" Regulus tried to console the old house-elf by resting his hand on the elf's dirty shoulder. Needless to say, it only made it worse. "Kreacher, calm down. You were only following orders, like you said. I'm not mad at you, see? I'm alive, no harm done. Right?"

Gradually the poor elf's sobs began to cease and he was able to speak again. "Kreacher is so very sorry Master Regulus! Kreacher was a bad elf!"

"Kreacher! Listen to me!" Regulus said sharply. Kreacher looked up expectantly, as if he expected punishment. Regulus then put both hands on the tiny house-elf's frail shoulders. "I. Am. Not. Mad at you. You are a good elf, and I'm very proud of you. I don't blame you."

"Master Regulus is too kind to Kreacher!" Kreacher wailed. "Kreacher is so thankful Master is alive!"

"Yeah, I'm...I'm," Regulus couldn't exactly say he was glad to be alive. "Kreacher can I ask you something?" Kreacher nodded. "What year is it?"

"It is 1995," Kreacher's hysterics had ended by now and Regulus had withdrawn his hands.

"1995," Regulus breathed. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous tick he'd never gotten rid of. "Sixteen years...?"

"I'm afraid so Mr. Black," Dumbledore drew the room's attention back to himself. Thankfully, he didn't ask about what Kreacher had said.

"But...but how?" Regulus cursed himself for stumbling over his words. "A-and why _me_?"

"Alas, I do not know," Dumbledore shook his head, still smiling. "I think you should stay here until further notice."

"Me? You're...you're not going to kill me?" Regulus raised an eyebrow. Kreacher hopped off the table and stood next to the chair Regulus was sitting in.

"Of course not my boy!" Dumbledore chuckled. "Why would you think that?"

"Well...'cause...," Regulus trailed off, gesturing to his exposed left forearm.

"I don't think that will be a problem," Dumbledore said. "Now, I think some introductions are in order. Then we can all get some well deserved rest." Regulus just nodded numbly. "Why don't you start Alastor?"

"Alastor Moody," the grumpy man growled.

"You can call him Mad-Eye though, everyone does," the pink haired witch said to him. She seemed friendly enough, despite her initial reaction to him. "I'm Nymphadora Tonks, but just call me Tonks."

"Andy's daughter?" Regulus asked, surprised.

"Yeah, _cousin_ ," she said teasingly. Yep, definitely Andy's daughter.

"I'm Molly Weasley," the plump red-headed witch introduced herself. Weasley, of course.

"Arthur Weasley," her, he assumed, husband said.

"Their son, Bill," the pony-tail guy said next.

"I'm Fred," one of the twins started.

"And I'm George," the other finished. Oh god, this wasn't going to be easy to live with.

"I'm Ginny the youngest," the girl spoke up from beside her brothers. "First girl in seven generations."

"Ron Weasley," the boy on Dumbledore's left said.

"Hermione Granger," the bushy haired girl next to Ron said.

"Harry Potter," the messy haired kid said softly.

"James's son?" Regulus asked. Harry nodded in response. _He survived!_ Regulus screamed for joy inside.

"Remus Lupin," the scarred man said. Lupin! Of course! Now it was the last man's turn. Regulus turned to him, and suddenly everything clicked. The long black hair, the look in those gray eyes that were identical to his own, how they got in the house. It all made sense.

"Sirius," Regulus breathed. Later he would congratulate himself for not fainting when his brother nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am updating at one in the morning. All chapters up till eight are already written, so it's just a matter of editing and laziness.


	3. The Little King

Regulus. All those in the Black family had been named after stars or constellations. Sirius had never found out why and had never really been a fan of the whole concept. He had vowed earlier in life that if he were ever to have children he would name them completely ordinary names in order to further infuriate his parents. Despite this fact, Sirius had always been fascinated in how the names always ended up very suiting. Sirius for example is called the "dog star", and Sirius himself became a dog animagus. Bellatrix meant "female warrior" and although his cousin was insane, she was definitely a warrior. Walburga, his mother, meant "strong protection", and yes, she had been _very_ protective.

But Regulus' name had always confused him. Sure it meant "little king" in Latin, and that part was fitting, but it was other conations to it that were puzzling. Regulus was one of the brightest stars in the galaxy, in fact, it was the brightest star in the constellation Leo. Leo being a lion. Why his parents ever named one of their children after a star in a _lion_ constellation Sirius would never know. But, back to stars. Regulus, being the brightest in Leo was, essentially, the "heart of a lion." And this Sirius had never understood, why his brother had been given this name. He had never grown into it as the other members of the Black family had theirs.

And now the owner of this name was sitting right across from him. Said owner had been dead for sixteen years, most of which Sirius had spent locked up in prison with only his worst memories. Memories of James and Lily, of failing them, and of failing his baby brother. His brother whose body had never been recovered, whose death was now shrouded in mystery. Regulus Black, the boy who didn't make sense.

"So, Mother and Father are dead, then?" Regulus asked, not missing a beat. He was remaining unnervingly calm in this whole affair. Weird...

"What?" Sirius, however, was not.

"Well, the only way you'd be let back in this house is if they were dead," he explained. "I mean, you were disowned, but with me being...gone, you'd be the last heir."

"Yeah, they're dead," Sirius gauged his brother's reaction. Regulus didn't reveal much, the little bugger never really did, just looked down at the table in some form of resignation. "Father died shortly after you did, and Mother six years later."

"Who else died?" Regulus snapped his head up and looked at his brother expectantly.

"Quite a lot of people," Sirius started, "the Prewett twins, Edgar Bones, Marlene McKinnon, Benjy Fenwick, Caradoc Dearborn, Dorcas Meadows, Evan Rosier, Wilkes. And many more, including Harry's parents, Lily and James."

"I'm sorry" Regulus' voice was sincere as he glanced at Harry then back to Sirius again. "I know how much they meant to you."

Sirius merely nodded in response. The room remained awkwardly silent for a while before Regulus spoke up again.

"So?" he asked, looking around at everyone this time.

"So what?" Remus furrowed his brow confusedly.

"Did he die?" When no one answered yet again Regulus sighed exasperatingly. "Do I have to spell it out for you? Obviously I do. Is he dead? Did Voldemort die?" Cue the flinches from basically everyone.

"You...you said his name!" Ron spluttered, his shock overtaking the fact that a past Death Eater was sitting at the same table he was.

"Well...yeah," Reguus raised one eyebrow. "I had to attend meetings with the man for years, it would be pretty cowardly to not be able to address him by his name."

Sirius couldn't help but think that Regulus' death had been pretty cowardly, but then reminded himself that that was now unclear. He'd never thought his little brother capable of speaking the name of the name of the darkest wizard of all time.

"So is he dead?" he asked again, still patient.

"He was destroyed two years after you died," Sirius supplied.

"But?" Creepy how he seemed to know there was more to the story.

"He was brought back to life not too long ago," Sirius was surprised to hear Harry answer Regulus' question.

"So I'm not the only one?" Regulus pressed on.

"Well, no, you are," Sirius spoke again. "Voldemort used some old ritual to come back, besides he wasn't completely dead in the first place. You just kind of...appeared."

Regulus nodded slowly as he processed all of the new information. For the first time sense he'd woken up on the floor Regulus hesitated before speaking. "So what are you planning on doing with me?"

"Like I said earlier my boy," Dumbledore smiled, "you will stay here until we figure out exactly how you came to be here."

"Well yeah, I know," Regulus said, "but what are you gonna do with me? Keep me under lock and key? Interrogate me? Torture? What?"

Sirius knew that the last part had been meant as a joke, but it still stung. Regulus didn't really think Sirius would allow anything like that to happen, did he?

"Nothing of that sort, I can assure you," Dumbledore answered. "You will stay here with Sirius and a few other members of the Order. Remus, Nymphadora? I assume you won't have any protests to that? None? Good. I'm sure you understand our precautions Mr. Black?"

"Yes, of course," Regulus suddenly grew very quiet. _Probably has to do with living with you for a while_ , Sirius thought to himself. Or maybe the shock that he had been dead for almost twenty years had finally hit him. Either way it was understandable.

"In addition to that," Dumbledore continued, "I hope you won't object to me bringing in someone to run a few tests on you. Just to make sure you weren't affected too badly to being brought back to life."

"Who?" Regulus asked warily.

"Severus Snape," Dumbledore said. If Regulus had been drinking something at the moment, Sirius was sure he'd have had the most magnificent spit take of all time.

"Snape?" he spluttered. "As in Severus Snape? Slytherin? Greasy hair? Really good at Potions? The Snape that, last I checked, was a Death Eater?"

"Yes, that Severus Snape," Dumbledore nodded, still smiling. "Shortly before the Wizarding War ended he switched sides and turned spy for me and the rest of the Order."

"Dumbledore!" Mad-Eye screeched.

"Calm down Alastor, we can trust Regulus," Dumbledore assured the aged Auror. "Besides he would have found out soon enough." No one looked particularly calmed by his words, but Mad-Eye didn't press on the subject and settled on eyeing Regulus suspiciously. Sirius had to give his brother props for carrying on as if one of the most intimidating men in the world wasn't staring at him as if he was going to murder him any moment.

"Snape's on the Light side now?" Regulus asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. Regulus sat in stunned silence for a while before ducking his head. Sirius, and everyone else at the table, was very surprised to hear a small chuckle escape the eighteen year old's lips. The chuckle turned into laughter as he threw his head back. It had been a long time since Sirius had hear his little brother laugh, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. It didn't last long however. The chuckles ceased shortly and Regulus was just left smiling to himself.

"Something funny boy?" Moody growled as menacingly as humanly possible. Regulus, however, remained unfazed.

"No, it's just," Regulus shook his head smiling, "I always knew it."

"What?" Remus asked.

"I always knew Severus wouldn't stay with the Death Eaters," Reguus admitted. "He may have been interested in the Dark Arts, but...he never really belonged at that table. At least _I_ didn't think he did."

"You...you knew Professor Snape, then?" Hermione asked surprised.

"Professor?" Regulus looked up at her with his eyebrows furrowed before shaking his head and answering her question. "Oh yes! I knew him, hard not to, us being in the same House and both being Death Eaters. May not be the nicest bloke, but I'll tell you one thing. He's a valuable asset, more valuable than you all probably know. He's really smart, Severus is, smarter than he lets on."

More awkward silence. Really awkward...

"Well," Mrs. Weasley broke the silence, "it's been a long day and we all have to be up bright and early tomorrow, especially you Harry. I suggest we all head off to bed."

"An excellent idea!" Dumbledore agreed. "I bid you all farewell, I'll be back tomorrow to check on young Regulus." And with that he got up from the table and left. He was shortly followed by the rest of the Order members who weren't staying at Grimmauld Place.

"Regulus?" Sirius said. His brother's head snapped toward him so fast that Sirius was surprised his neck didn't break. "I'm pretty sure your old room is still habitable..." He trailed off.

"I think I'd rather stay somewhere else until further notice," Regulus said slowly.

"Of course," Sirius replied hurriedly, "I can take you to one of the rooms we've cleared out if you like."

"Thank you," Regulus said, "but I think Kreacher can show me." Sirius only nodded, trying hard to hide his dejection.

Regulus mumbled a quick "goodnight" and hurriedly rose from his chair. He walked out the open door with an eager Kreacher leading him. Regulus was slightly bent over and engaging in a conversation with the small creature. The familiarity of their motions made Sirius believe this wasn't the first time the two had talked like this.

Sirius didn't hear Mrs. Weasley usher the remaining people off to bed or Harry and his friends wishing him goodnight. All he could think about was when did it become easier for Regulus to talk to a _house-elf_ than his own brother? The dog animagus buried his head in his hands and remained like that for several hours before retreating to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to post a new chapter everyday until I get all eight up. I will be leaving on Monday for Canada though, and I will be offline for a week.


	4. Old Times

Regulus never really knew what woke him up that morning, only that it was way too early for anyone else to be awake and he needed coffee. His parents had always hated coffee, something about tea being "the drink for esteemed families" such as theirs. It had been ridiculous really, especially because tea was far too bitter for Regulus' taste. Luckily, Kreacher had always been there to slip him his much needed caffeine boost in disguise of the murky, brown, swamp water known as tea.

This morning, however, caffeine was of the upmost importance. The memories of last night were a blurry mess in the back of the young Black heir's mind. He blindly reached out for the clothes he had spotted at the foot of his bed earlier and snatched them up with groggy fingers. He peeled of his shirt from the previous day and slipped on the clean, dark green one. He exchanged his old jeans for a new pair and decided to leave shoes for later. Coffee was more important, he would wear socks.

Regulus numbly stumbled down the stairs in a haze. He still hadn't thought about the other night, his sleep deprived mind refused to supply him with the needed information that he had been brought back from the dead by an some unknown thing. However, the way to get to the kitchen had not been omitted from his brain.

He didn't so much as glance at the table when he entered the room, but instead turned straight toward the kitchen and began searching for the black coffee mug with his initials etched into the bottom. He grabbed it out of one of the cupboards and absentmindedly flicked his fingers over the cup. In less than a second a black liquid filled the mug up to the rim. He turned around in a zombie-like manner and padded back through the door to be met with six faces staring at him.

"Oh...right," he said sleepily before breaking into a yawn. Molly and Arthur Weasley, Lupin, Sirius, Tonks, and Harry were all seated at the table. His senses weren't as sharp in the mornings, so he must have missed them earlier.

"Mornin' Regulus," Tonks said cheekily. He narrowed his eyes at her in a way that he hoped conveyed the message "I will kill you if you so much as speak again."

Regulus murmured, almost inaudibly, something along the lines of, "Just wanna drink my freakin' coffee in peace." He then made his way over to an empty seat, between Sirius and Tonks, and sat down with a very dignified (note the sarcasm) huff of annoyance. Regulus brought the hot cup to his lips in a robotic motion, keeping his barely open eyes on the table, and took a sip of the strong coffee. Oh, thank God for caffeine.

"Watcha doin' up so early?" Tonks pressed on, a smile creeping up her face. She was immediately greeted with another Regulus Black Death Stare and broke out into a full grin.

"Where'd you get the coffee?" Sirius asked curiously. Not able to look at his brother, Regulus settled for gazing into the black fluid sleepily.

"Kreacher," he lied easily, if not groggily. "What are you all doing up at 5:45 in the morning?"

"Harry's got a hearing to go to," Lupin replied shortly, it was clear the man didn't trust him. Even Regulus' zombie mind could understand that.

"A hearing?" he took another sip of coffee. "But you're like, what? Fourteen?"

"Fifteen," Harry corrected in a sleepy voice. "I had a run in with Dementors back in Surrey."

Regulus almost spit out the coffee he had just drunk at that. "Dementors?!" What the hell was wrong with this time period?

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I managed to fend them off, but used magic in the process."

"You can cast a patronus?" Regulus said incredulously. Again the dark haired teenager nodded in response, and Regulus raised in eyebrow, impressed.

"Well, you shouldn't have anything to worry about," Regulus assured the younger boy, "you used magic in defense, they can't punish you for that."

"They might," Arthur contradicted him, "with Fudge as Minister Harry's chances aren't as good as they should be."

Said boy's expression turned dejected as he looked down at the table.

"Wait, Fudge?" Regulus inquired. "That daft Hufflepuff three years above me? Don't tell me they made  _him_  Minister of Magic!"

"Afraid so," Sirius muttered, "Bagnold replaced Minstrum, and then Fudge was appointed. Bloody man still won't believe Voldemort's back."

At the younger Black's confused gaze Remus elaborated. "Harry was the only one there the night The Dark Lord...returned. Many witches and wizards deny the fact that he's back, Fudge included."

"That must suck," Regulus took another sip of coffee before looking up in realization. "Wait, what were Dementors doing in  _Surrey_?"

Blank faces followed his question.

"Demenotors are guards of Azkaban," Regulus thought out loud, "and Azkaban is the Ministry's. Any and all Dementors, to my knowledge, are controlled, to a certain extent, by the Ministry."

"No one in the Ministry would try to attack Harry!"Molly spoke up.

"I certainly hope not," Regulus cocked his head, "but it does raise some interesting questions, don't you think?"

He sat his now empty coffee mug on the table and stood up.

"I'll be in the third floor library, catching up on current events," Regulus called over his shoulder as he exited the room. "Try not to get expelled!"

He left the six people staring at each other with incredulous looks on their faces. The young Black heir wasn't what any of them had expected.

* * *

 

Regulus held the hardback book in his hand as he scanned down its yellowed pages with his gray eyes.

The title,  _Wizarding History: 1980-1990_ , was displayed on the cover in silver, curling letters. His eyes were drooping less than in the kitchen, reading had always had this effect on Regulus. While it made some people bored and/or tired, he was usually awakened when he settled down with a book. Books were an imaginative escape from an otherwise dreary, and overall sucky, world.

"You called, Master Regulus?" a croaky voice called out. Regulus turned away from the book to see Kreacher standing a little ways away from him.

"Kreacher, I know it's been a long time," he began, "but you can still call me Regulus when we're alone. Nothing's changed."

The old house-elf did his best to look disapproving, but Regulus could see he was relieved.

"Yes, I did call for you," the black haired boy said, standing up. "We need to talk...in private." He glanced around the room, and, for extra measure, muttered a quick " _Muffliato_ " under his breath. Thank the Lord for Severus Snape.

"Alright," Regulus sat crossed legged on the floor, "like old times?"

Kreacher looked hesitant at first, but after a few seconds he nodded and sat down on his knees a foot away from the eighteen year old. Regulus smiled at the elf in hopes of easing his mind.

"Kreacher...," the young man started slowly, "I'm sure you remember what happened all those years ago." The elf nodded, his eyes filled with fear.

"You remember the locket?"

Another nod.

"And what I told you to do?"

"Regulus told Kreacher not to tell Mistress." Kreacher answered.

"And what else?" Regulus asked gently.

"To destroy it...," Kreacher bowed his head.

"One last question," Regulus assured his loyal servant, "and I promise I won't be angry, no matter what you say. Did you succeed in destroying the locket?"

Kreacher didn't say anything for a while, and then burst into tears. "Kreacher tried Master! Kreacher tried everything he knew! But the locket...Kreacher is so sorry Master!"

Kreacher was now a mess of tears and wrinkled skin on the floor. Before Kreacher could stop him, Regulus scooped the house-elf up in his arms and hugged him tightly. Kreacher fought to get out of the boy's grip at first, muttering about it being improper and how his Mistress would disapprove, but eventually gave up and sobbed into the young man's shoulder.

"Kreacher, I'm not mad," Regulus spoke calmly and softly. "I don't blame you. I should have known a house-elf's magic wouldn't have been able to destroy something that powerful. As long as you still have it and haven't told anyone what happened that night, I will be very pleased with you."

"Kreacher has the locket. Kreacher never told," the elf assured his young Master through his tears.

"You're a good elf, Kreacher," Regulus smiled as he pulled away from the sniffling creature. "Best there's ever been."

Kreacher returned the smile with his own watery one and returned to his spot on the floor. "Would Regulus like Kreacher to get the locket for him?"

"No," Regulus said, "let's just talk for now. Like old times." Kreacher nodded in agreement and soon Regulus and he were chatting about what the young boy had missed since he'd died. Kreacher was eager to fill in the gap and Regulus was just happy to talk.

And in that small window of time, it was like old times. Times when Kreacher would find Regulus after a particularly nasty punishment from Mother. When Kreacher was sobbing in a dark corner after dropping a dish or something. When they weren't brought-back-from-the-dead-teenagers or old, guilt ridden house-elves. When they were friends, first and foremost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here's the next chapter. If you catch the small hint I had in this chapter then congrats! Anyway...goodbye!


	5. Covered in Dust

Noise from downstairs jolted Regulus out of his reading state. He placed the thin silk bookmark attached to _Wizarding Laws: 1970-1980_ between the yellowing pages before setting it down on the long table. The book was actually fairly interesting, although he had to skip about four fifths of it for obvious reasons. The young Black heir had always had a liking for law, he’d even considered going into the profession for a period of time before realizing that his parents would never allow it.

The noise that had caused him to stop his reading was of a rhythmic origin, almost like a chant of sorts. Harry must have returned from his hearing, and it sounded like he’d brought good news with him.

Regulus made his way out the door and down the two flights of stairs to the first floor quietly. He stopped in front of the kitchen door uncertainly, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Regulus was right about the chanting, three voices emitted from the kitchen forming the words “HE GOT OFF! HE GOT OFF!” Also, Mrs. Weasley’s voice could be heard telling the three others (Regulus would bet his broomstick that two of the voices were the twins) to be quiet. They soon hushed up and Regulus was about to take the safe route and go back to the library when the door he was standing in front of swung open. He was barely able enough to get out of the way before it hit him in the face.

“Regulus!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed as he closed the door behind himself. “I’m sorry my boy, I didn’t realize you were there.”

Immediately Regulus could tell that he was going to like the Weasley children’s father. At least he didn’t act all strange around the eighteen year old. “It’s alright,” he responded with a small smile. “I was just about to go.”

“Nonsense!” the ginger haired man said incredulously. “I’m sure Molly has made enough food to accommodate for you!” Sensing Regulus’s discomfort, he added, “Go on in there, Sirius left a seat for you.”

The elder man smiled down at the young Black and left him standing there with a dip of his head. Regulus glared at the door as of it had done him some injustice. With a deep breath his grasped the handle with determination and pulled open the door.

The chaotic scene that met him as he quietly closed the door behind him didn’t stop as he entered. Mrs. Weasley was scolding Fred…and…what was the other one’s name? George! That’s right, George! The youngest Weasley, Ginny or Jenny, was talking excitedly with Tonks and the bushy haired girl with the weird name. Harry was talking to his friend with the red hair and Sirius. The only one who seemed to notice Regulus’s entrance was the eldest Weasley child present, Bill. The pony tailed man cleared his throat to get the others’ attention before speaking loudly.

“Regulus! Come to join us for breakfast?” he asked. The black haired boy nodded unsurely and before he could open his mouth Mrs. Weasley was dragging him to the seat that Sirius had left for him.

“Umm…thank you Mrs. Weasley,” he muttered in a dazed sort of way. Regulus didn’t really know what was throwing him off but he didn’t like it, his usual mask was faltering more and more with each passing second.

“Molly is fine dear. Hermione, could you please pass the potatoes?” And the rest carried on as if nothing had changed. As if there wasn’t a resurrected former teenage Death Eater in their kitchen. Regulus was beginning to wonder how weird all their lives actually were.

“Congrats on not getting expelled, by the way,” he said to Harry. The boy just responded with a dip of his head. Regulus did catch Sirius frowning out of the corner of his eye. Odd. “Did they bring up what I said this morning?”

“Yeah, Dumbledore did, actually,” Harry answered.

“I think like Dumbledore, cool,” Regulus nodded.

“What did Dumbledore say?” Hermione asked.

“The dementors that attacked Harry,” Regulus responded. “All dementors are under the command of the Ministry, to some extent.”

“Do you think someone from _the Ministry of Magic_ sent dementors to suck out Harry’s soul?” she asked, incredulous.

“Well I certainly hope not, but who else could have?” No one had an answer to that.

Most of the meal went on without Regulus being included in the conversation, which he was fine with, until Sirius decided to ask him a question.

“So, what have you been doing up there?” he gestured with him fork to the ceiling.

“Reading,” he answered carefully before adding, “catching up on what’s happened while I’ve been gone.”

“Sounds fun,” Tonks said sarcastically.

“About as fun as law amendments can be,” Regulus replied. He couldn’t help himself adding, “Did you know that amortentia is still legal?”

“Amortentia?” Harry inquired. Regulus bit back a chuckle at Hermione rolling her eyes

“Love potions,” she supplied.

“Yeah,” Regulus agreed, “magic carpets are too dangerous but love potions, perfectly fine.”

“What’s so bad about them?” One of the twins asked.

“They basically make someone fall in love with you for however long you keep giving them the potion,” Regulus answered. “So, hypothetically, someone could be drugged for years and wake up with no memory of the person who gave them the potion. They’re basically rape drugs.”

“That’s…not comforting,” Ginny said softly. Regulus only nodded in agreement.

“Why do you know so much about amortentia?” Hermione said curiously.

“Same way that I know that there are about three thousand different types of snakes in the world but only a quarter of them are venomous,” Regulus acknowledged, “I read. Did you know that the first thing Edison ever filmed on his movie camera was a person sneezing?”

Sirius laughed as Hermione slowly shook her head from side to side. “I forgot about your obsession with random facts.”

“They’re good for impressing people,” Regulus admitted, slightly grinning as he spoke.

“And they’re completely useless,” Sirius pointed out.

“Well next time you need to know how to put out a grease fire, don’t come running to me,” Regulus huffed. He was surprised at how at ease he and everyone else were. Spooky almost.

The rest of the table was looking at him expectantly. Ron spoke up first, “Don’t you just put it out with water…?”

“No, you smother it,” the young Black smiled, “using water will just spread it. _See_ , they aren’t useless.” He glanced up smugly at his much too old brother.

Sirius just exhaled in response. He was annoyed. Mission accomplished.

“Well, if everyone’s done, it’s time to start cleaning,” Molly announced as she started to take their empty dishes.

“Cleaning?” Regulus asked.

“Yeah, after Mother and Father died the place has kind of fallen apart,” Sirius said, standing up. Huh, so that explained all the cobwebs in the library. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.”

“I think I will,” Regulus decided, standing up as well, “even I get tired of books after a while. Oh, and Kreacher?” The elf had wandered in sometime after Regulus had. “You’re helping too.”

“Yes Master Regulus,” the house-elf dipped his head in obedience. The rest of the people in the room stared up at Regulus in awe.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“H-He listened to you!” One of the twins cried. “How?!”

“Hasn’t Sirius told you?” Regulus grinned cheekily at his dark haired brother. “If you’re nice to people, they’re usually nice back.”

“Oh, sod off,” Sirius muttered, although he too was smirking.

* * *

 

“Holy shit…,” Regulus’s voice trailed off as he gazed at the utter destruction before him. There were papers, furniture, trinkets, and about everything but the kitchen sink scattered throughout the used to be parlor. Now it resembled something more like a hoarder’s room. “Kreacher….”

“Kreacher is sorry Master,” Kreacher at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed by Regulus’s chastising. He scurried over to the farthest corner of the room, far away from the eyes of the others. Regulus shook his head as the house-elf walked away.

“So, where do we begin?” he addressed Mrs. Weasley, the leader of their motley crew.

“Everyone choose a section and start sorting,” she told all of them. “We’ll have to piles, keeping and throwing out.” Everyone nodded and made their way to different parts of the room. Harry and his two friends stuck fairly close together, speaking in hushed voices as so no one else could hear. Tonks strayed off to leaf through some old documents and books while Molly chose to sort through odd knick knacks and odds and ends. Bill and Remus had left to attend to Order business. Sirius went to the corner opposite of Kreacher, and Regulus settled down close to him.

“Don’t be too obvious about it,” he murmured low enough for only Sirius to hear.

“What?” Sirius raised his head in confusion. Regulus suppressed a smirk at his brother’s expression.

“How you feel about Harry,” he elaborated. “I know you were slightly looking forward to him getting to live here with you.”

“No I wasn’t,” Sirius denied, not very convincingly.

“Yes you were,” Regulus said, “I saw how you reacted at breakfast.”

“How did you…?” Sirius started.

“It wasn’t very subtle,” Regulus smirked, “I think Harry’s beginning to pick up on it too.”

“It’s not that I wanted him to get expelled,” Sirius gave in. “I just….”

“Wanted to see him more?” Regulus finished for him. Sirius nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, well, you’ve got a few weeks with him. And Christmas. Besides, Lupin and Tonks are going to be staying with you now.”

“And you,” Sirius reminded him while running his fingers over an old ring.

“Yeah, and me,” Regulus let out a long breath. Sirius looked up at him, concerned.

“How are you by the way?” he asked.

“Huh?” Regulus answered.

“How are you holding up with…,” Sirius trailed off, unsure.

“With being brought back from the dead?” Sirius nodded. “Okay I guess. It’s weird seeing you with gray hair though.”

“What?!” Sirius cried out indignantly. “I do not have gray hair!”

“Really?” Regulus chuckled. “Might want to check the mirror brother.”

Sirius scowled at him before returning to his cleaning. The two Black brothers kept up the playful banter for a while. Regulus almost forgot about the fact that he had been resurrected from the dead, until Lupin opened the door to the once parlor.

“Remus?” Mrs. Weasley straightened up to greet the man. “Is there news from the Order?”

“Well, sort of,” Remus told her before turning to Regulus. “Snape’s here.”

All eyes turned to the young boy as his eyes widened. He had only seen his friend a few days ago, but Severus hadn’t seen him in almost twenty years. The thought of seeing him now…Regulus didn’t know what to expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I have wifi in Canada, yay! Seriously, the international rates for using data here are insane. I got to see Niagara Falls today, which was awesome, and I'm going to Toronto tomorrow. Until next time, have fun!


	6. In Which Severus Snape Smiles and Minds Are Fucked

“So the Pompous Prat _has_ returned,” a sneering voice drawled.

“If it isn’t the Greasy Git,” Regulus shot back. He tried repressing the smile that was creeping over his face but ultimately failed miserably and let out a chuckle. “It’s good to see you Sev.”

“Likewise,” the corners of Severus’s mouth upturned in a small, almost smile. Regulus smiled wider and ran over to hug his friend. The older man remained stiff in the young Black’s arms; Sev had never been a fan of hugs.

“See you’re affectionate as always,” Regulus grinned, releasing the potions professor. He turned to see everyone’s jaws on the floor. “What?”

No one answered him, but Ron made a few unintelligible noises. “What, you’ve never seen him smile before?” Regulus prompted. After they all nodded he continued. “Not surprised. You’ve always been unemotional.”

“Says you,” Severus shot back. Regulus ignored him.

“How do you survive, wearing that much black?” He examined his friend’s clothing. “Don’t you burn up?” The only response he received was a death stare. “Okay, sheesh. Touchy, touchy.”

 Severus just shook his head at the young boy’s foolishness.

“So, I hear you’re a professor now. Potions, right?” Severus nodded. “Is he a good teacher?” Regulus directed this question to the teenagers in the room. They all shifted uncomfortably.

“I see,” Regulus bobbed his head up and down. He threw an arm around Severus and with his other he made an arc as he spoke. “Severus Snape, striking fear into the hearts of children since 1960. Ooh, we should make t-shirts!”

“ _No_ ,” the professor’s eyes widened ever so slightly at the eighteen year old. Regulus removed his arm and raised his hands in surrender.

“Alright, fine, no t-shirts,” he assured the older man. “You take everything way too seriously>”

He turned back to face the group of people once more. Their jaws still hadn’t been removed from the floor. Regulus leaned in to fake whisper into Severus’s ear. “ _I think we fucked their minds up._ ” Sev chuckled in response.

“It really is good to have you back, Reg,” he said sincerely. Regulus smiled back, but on the inside he was glowing. He hadn’t heard that nickname in a while; it was good to hear it once more.

“Hey, I um, I heard about…you know,” Regulus cocked his head in a meaningful matter. “I’m sorry.”

Severus nodded in return. Most would probably not notice the small bit of sadness in his masked expression. But Regulus did not classify himself as “most people”. 

“So,” he swung his arms back and forth, “I think you’re supposed to run some tests or something. Make sure I’m still human or some shit.”

“Yes,” Severus confirmed. He pulled his wand out from wherever the hell he kept it in his robes. “Just stand still.”

Regulus braced himself for whatever was to come, but only a warm feeling came over him after Severus mumbled some words under his breath. He dragged his wand through the air until it had gone over every part of Reg’s body. When he was finished, Regulus asked, “Am I good?”

“You seem to be in perfect health,” Severus frowned, taking a small vial out of his pocket. “Here, drink this.”

Regulus took the vial hesitantly and after shrugging, downed all of its contents. He swallowed and shifted from foot to foot, unsure.

“Give me your hands,” Sev commanded. Regulus complied. After examining his palms for who the hell knows what, Severus let go of Regulus. “You’re you, somehow.”

“Cool…,” Regulus trailed off. “Is there any sign that it’ll…that I’ll….”

“What?” Severus’s brows furrowed questioningly.

“Is there a sign that…whatever brought me back...will stop working?” Regulus asked carefully. “That I’ll die again?”

“Since I have no idea why you are alive, I cannot know for sure,” Severus admitted truthfully. “But, so long as you stay away from killing curses and tall cliffs, I think you’ll be just fine.”

“Thanks, Sev,” Regulus said earnestly. Severus gave him a quick smile before turning to leave. “Wait, why are you going?”

“Dumbledore sent me to look you over,” Severus explained. “I’ve done that.”

“Come on, stay for lunch,” Regulus begged childishly. “Molly made dumplings….”

Severus glanced at the still shocked and now slightly scared faces of the others, and then back to Regulus’s pleading face. He sighed exasperatingly, “Fine.” At Regulus’s big smile, he couldn’t help adding. “But _only_ for lunch.”

“Fine, you sour puss,” Regulus rolled his eyes.

* * *

 

And that’s how Regulus ended up sandwiched between his brothers and his brother’s arch enemy eating dumplings in awkward silence. He had repressed about a thousand chuckles before someone actually spoke up.

“So, Bill, how’s the work at Gringotts?” Mrs. Weasley asked her eldest son while spearing a dumpling with her fork. He swallowed before answering.

“It’s quite interesting,” Bill responded. “Not as exciting as the tombs in Egypt, but a nice contrast.”

One of the twins whispered something to the other, causing both of them to burst into a fit of giggles. They waved off their mother’s questioning stare. Regulus still hadn’t decided if he liked the twins….

The rest of the very awkward lunch went on without much conversation; the kids seemed utterly terrified to say a word in front of their potions professor. Regulus really couldn’t blame them, Severus could be extremely intimidating, especially to those younger than him. And the sixteen years that Regulus had been dead only seemed to increase the menacing factor.

“I’ll see you later then,” Regulus said, drawing back from hugging his friend.

“Yes, goodbye,” Severus said curtly. He exited Grimmauld place quickly and without another sound. Regulus turned around to find the rest of the occupants of his family’s home whose jaws were once again on the floor.

“What?” he asked innocently, his brow furrowed. They all just shook their heads and made their way back to the parlor for cleaning. Only Sirius remained. “What?” Regulus repeated.

Sirius didn’t answer, just shook his head like the rest. “Fine then,” Regulus huffed childishly. “I’m going to get settled in upstairs, call me down if you need me.” He waved goodbye to Sirius as he ran up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time.

* * *

 

Sirius closed the door to the parlor behind him. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were sitting cross legged on the floor, sorting through trinkets and talking quietly with one another. The jerked their heads around when Sirius entered the room.

“Where are the others?” he asked, sitting down next to them.

“Mom went with Bill and Tonks to finish cleaning up the kitchen,” Ron answered tiredly.

“Where’s Regulus?” Hermione asked sharply.

"Upstairs, getting settled in, why?” he asked curiously. Hermione glanced at her two friends before answering. Harry and Ron nodded.

“We were talking about him,” she started slowly, “and there are a few things that don’t make sense.”

“Like the fact that he’s been resurrected from the dead?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “No, like how he knew about Edison.”

“What?”

“He knew about Thomas Edison’s film camera. He told us about it at breakfast,” Hermione elaborated. “But that’s a muggle invention, how would he, a pureblood, even know about that? He didn’t take muggle studies, did he?”

“No, Mother and Father were angry when I did,” Sirius’s face twisted in confusion. “He wouldn’t have dared upset them.”

“And it’s not just that,” Harry spoke up for the first time, “there’s some other weird stuff we’ve noticed as well. He says Voldemort’s name even though many Death Eaters don’t, he says he knew Snape was going to leave the Dark Side, he treats Kreacher surprisingly well for a pureblooded wizard, not to mention that exchange they had when Regulus summoned him.”

“Fate said there was a lot you didn’t know about your brother,” Ron said, “lots of secrets he had.”

“It appears he does have quite a few,” Sirius agreed. “Except for the whole Kreacher thing, he and that elf were always close.”

“Until Regulus actually tells us anything we’ll have to keep an eye on him,” Hermione decided.

The rest of the small group nodded and they returned to their sorting. Sirius couldn’t stop thinking about his little brother, however. He’d thought he’d known Regulus pretty well; or at least known enough about him. Turns out there was a lot that his brother had been hiding from him.

* * *

 

Regulus had only held the small ornament in his hands a couple days ago, but he supposed that in reality it hadn’t felt the touch of human fingers in sixteen years. The locket was just as it had been all that time ago; small, oval shaped with the emerald S inlaid in the golden cover. He smudged of the thin layer of dust that coated the locket and turned it this way and that, checking for any dents or imperfections. Regulus knew that it couldn’t be damaged, but he still made sure to do so.

“Thank you Kreacher,” he told the house-elf sitting next to him on the bed earnestly. “For keeping it safe for me, all these years.” Kreacher gave him a hesitant smile.

“Kreacher could not find a way to destroy it,” he croaked, “and when Kreacher wore it, it made Kreacher upset and burned his chest.”

“Probably the Horcrux defending itself,” Regulus explained, patting the small elf comfortingly on his shoulder. “I’ll put it somewhere safe, don’t worry.”

Regulus stood up from the green sheeted bed and padded over to a small box that lay on the table across the room. He slid off the lid carefully and whispered a spell underneath his breath. The wood that most would assume to be that bottom of the box disappeared and Regulus placed the locket warily into it. He whispered the spell again (plus a few others for protection) and placed the lid back on the box.

“I suppose I don’t have to tell you to keep this a secret?” he asked Kreacher, who had followed him. His faithful house-elf shook his head vigorously, making his ears flap against the sides of his head, and Regulus smiled in response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just got back from Canada on Sunday, and I'm still getting used to school after two weeks off. So, yeah. Hope you like the chapter! It's not too long, but I feel like some important stuff was covered. I don't know...thanks for reading!


	7. Awkward Hugs and Advice

_Cold. Everything was cold. Water was everywhere, dark and murky. Clammy hands grasped for him. Snagging on his waterlogged clothes and seizing any part of his flailing body they could get their lifeless fingers on. He tried to fend them off, kicking and thrashing. But they were strong. They kept on pulling him further down, down, down. He could no longer see the light of the surface shining through the water. There were only their gaunt faces and skeletal-like bodies. And the darkness was seeping through the edges of his vision._

“NO!!!” Regulus shrieked hoarsely, sitting up abruptly in his bed. He doubled over, his arms wrapped around himself, panting. Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head furiously. _It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real,_ he repeated the mantra over and over again in his mind.

“It’s not real,” Regulus said through gritted teeth. He took deep breaths, trying slow down his racing heart.

“Master Regulus!” came a croaky voice from beside the bed. Regulus straightened up to peer down at the elf before him.

“Kreacher?” he asked.

“Kreacher heard Master Regulus scream,” Kreacher answered worriedly. “Is Master Re-Is Regulus alright?”

“I-I’ll be fine Kreacher, no need to worry,” Regulus assured the house-elf. His ragged breath had decreased and became steadier. His mind no longer filled with images of undead creatures and endless water. “You can go back to sleep.”

Kreacher turned to leave, but paused at the door, looking back at his master with concerned eyes. “Go Kreacher, I’m okay, I swear.” Kreacher nodded, looking dubious, and left the room without making another sound.

Regulus sunk back into the bed, staring at the ceiling. He ran a nervous hand through his hair before turning on his side. He clutched the black cover in his hands and brought them up under his head. “I’ll be okay,” he murmured to himself before closing his eyes.

He didn’t sleep.

* * *

“Reg, are you alright?” his brother asked him that morning. Regulus stared at his coffee for a few seconds before jerking his head up.

“What?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Sirius repeated, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Regulus assured him. It wasn’t a very convincing, there were heavy bags under the younger Black’s eyes and his skin was pale white.

“Are you sure?” Sirius raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“Yeah, I just didn’t, um, sleep very well last night,” Regulus rubbed the back of his neck and sipped his coffee, thus ending the conversation. Sirius went back to his breakfast after one last dubious glance at his brother.   

* * *

It was a couple days after the dream that Regulus overheard a conversation between Harry and his two friends. He was walking through a dusty hallway when the voice of Hermione came through the slightly ajar door to his right.

“Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron’s mum’s right, and Sirius gets confused about whether you’re you or your father, Harry.”

Now that was odd. Sure, Sirius did see James in Harry, that much was obvious, but he’d never get them confused with one another. Regulus pressed his ear near the crack in the door, eavesdropping wasn’t very becoming, true, but it was oh so useful.

“So you think he’s touched in the head?” That was Harry.

“No, I just think he’s been very lonely for a long time.” Hermione said. Well, time to make his presence known.

“What do you mean?” he asked, opening the door fully and stepping into the bedroom that they were scrubbing a cupboard in. The three teenagers spun around on the floor to face, surprise etched on their faces. “Sorry, couldn’t help overhearing.” He shrugged apologetically.

“No problem,” Hermione said warily. She was a suspicious one, wasn’t she? _I like her,_ Regulus thought, _reminds me of Narcissa. Always skeptical._ “What were you asking?”

“Sirius, being lonely. I mean, with James dead I’m sure he wasn’t that well off, but sixteen years is quite a while. And he still has Lupin, right? And that Pettigrew boy, where is he anyway?” The looks on their faces was enough to tell him that there was something he was missing. “He’s not dead, is he?”

“No, he’s not. Unfortunately,” Harry muttered the last word quietly, but Regulus still heard it all the same.

Ron, who had been quiet since Regulus had entered, spoke up, “I think you should ask Sirius about…everything.” Regulus nodded and left the room without a word, closing the door behind him, his mind filled with fears of what would be awaiting him.

In his daze he crashed into someone coming down the hall.

“Mrs. We-I mean, Molly! I’m so sorry!” he apologized hurriedly. Regulus reached out hand to help the Weasley mother off of the floor, pulling her up with ease.

“It’s alright Regulus,” she assured him, dusting herself off. “Are they done in there yet?” She gestured to the room he’d just left.

“Not yet, no,” he shook his head.

“I better go help them,” she said exasperatedly, stepping aside to pass Regulus.

“Wait,” Regulus stopped her before she could walk away. “Do you know where Sirius is?”

“I think he’s helping Ginny down in the first floor parlor, near the stairs,” she answered before adding. “Why?”

“Nothing, just need to ask him something is all,” Regulus said. “Thank you!” he called over his shoulder as he turned toward the stairs.

Regulus took the steps two at a time and reached the bottom quickly. The parlor was to the left of the stairs, and he gripped the doorknob, hesitating a moment before opening the door.

Inside, Sirius was sitting with the youngest Weasley on the old green couch, both laughing about something Regulus hadn’t heard. Piles of papers were scattered across the coffee table in front of them.

“Regulus!” Sirius exclaimed. Ginny stopped laughing as well and looked up at the eighteen year old.

“Um, hi,” he said. “Sirius, I need to talk to you.” His eyes flickered to Ginny. “Alone.”

Sirius looked confused, whereas the redhead beside him looked understanding. She got up and Regulus stepped aside to clear a path for her.

“I’ll go see if Tonks needs any help,” she told them before exiting the room. Regulus closed the door after her and turned to face his brother.

“What is it?” Sirius asked worriedly.

“What happened while I was…dead?” Regulus said slowly, looking everywhere but at Sirius.

“Well, Voldemort was destroyed and-,” Sirius started, confused.

“No!” Regulus cut him off, more loudly than he intended. He took a deep breath before finishing. “I mean, what happened to _you_?”

Sirius was silent for a minute; he just stared at the floor. Regulus rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Sit down.”

Regulus sat down next to the older Black uncertainly; the look in Sirius’s eyes was sending shivers of fear down his spine. He glanced at his brother, at the haunting look in his eyes, the scars that had definitely not been there when Regulus was alive before, and at the look on his face that….

“What year have you gotten to in your…research?” Sirius started off slowly.

“Early 1981,” Regulus answered. “Why?”

“1981 was the year James and Lily died,” Sirius wasn’t looking at him, but kept his gaze fixed on the floor. “It was Halloween. Voldemort was looking for them, so they went into hiding. They used the Fidelius Charm, of course.”

“And you were the Secret-Keeper?” Regulus prompted.

“No,” Sirius shook his head sadly, “I convinced James I was too obvious a choice. We were going to go with Remus, but there was a traitor in the Order, and there was suspicion that he was it. So, we went with Peter.”

Regulus remembered Peter. He was a small, chubby guy that was constantly at Sirius and his friends sides. Weird little guy, always reminded Regulus of a character from a book he read as a kid. It was about a boy who lied so much that eventually no one believed him and he almost got trapped in a well.

“I went to see him one night,” Sirius took a deep breath before continuing, “but he wasn’t there. There wasn’t sign of a struggle; I got scared so I went to check on James and Lily. The house was destroyed, and they were dead.”

Sirius’s voice cracked and Regulus felt a sudden urge to pull his brother into his arms, like Sirius used to do to him when Regulus got scared during thunder storms. He stayed where he was, however, looking up at Sirius with sympathy in his eyes.

“And,” Sirius started, swallowing painfully before going on, “Hagrid had Harry, he was going to take him to Dumbledore. I tried to convince him to give Harry to me, I’m his godfather, he should’ve gone with me, but Hagrid wouldn’t hand him over. So I gave him bike, it was faster, and I…I..”

“You went after Peter,” Regulus finished. _Gryffindors, always acting before thinking_ , he thought to himself.

Sirius nodded, “I cornered him on the street, there were people there, but I didn’t care. He kept saying that it was me, that I had been the one to sell Lily and James out. Then he cut of his finger and blew up the street, killing twelve Muggles.”

“And you were blamed.” It wasn’t a question; Regulus could draw the conclusion for himself.

“Yes,” Sirius confirmed simply. And in this moment he seemed so tired, so weary and exhausted. “Life sentence, no trial.”

“No trial?!” Regulus cried out, surprising his brother. “Didn’t they test your wand? Or use Veritaserum? Something?!”

“No, they didn’t,” Sirius shook his head.

“But that…that’s bullshit!” Sirius nearly jumped at Regulus’s outburst. “What happened to the government after I left? Did the Ministry officials go insane?!”

“Reg, calm down,” Sirius raised his eyebrows warily. Regulus didn’t even notice the nickname, too busy “going insane” himself.

“I mean,” he continued, ignoring Sirius’s hands that were currently trying to keep Regulus still, “they can’t just throw someone in Azkaban for life without making sure they actually _committed_ the crime they were thrown in for! Wait-” he paused to breathe “how are you here if you were committed for life? Did the Ministry finally pull their heads out of their uptight asses?”

Sirius didn’t answer immediately, just stared at his panting brother in shock. “No…I broke out.”

“Those rat bastards,” Regulus muttered before his head shot up in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“I broke out…?” Sirius repeated, cocking his head, puzzled.

“How the _hell_ did _you_ break out of _Azkaban_?” Regulus raised his eyebrows further with each enunciated word.

“I find that slightly insulting,” Sirius admittedly before adding seriously. “I was able to confuse the Dementors.”

“Confuse the-oh!” Regulus responded. “Dementors can’t sense animals’ emotions….”

Sirius nodded in affirmation, and then he looked up at Regulus like he’d just declared _himself_ to be a Dementor. “How is that of any relevance?”

“You know, animals-you-animagus,” he said slowly, “not that hard to put together.”

“You know about that?!” Sirius exclaimed, all the severity of their conversation forgotten in the midst of his astonishment.

“Well, yeah,” Regulus confirmed, “again, not that hard to figure out. I mean, you and your friends made jokes about it all the time. You’re named after the Dog Star. Just kind of put two and two together.”

“H-How long have you known?” Sirius spluttered.

“Since, I don’t know, my third year?” Regulus looked upward, struggling to remember. “Why?”

“Why?!” Now it was Sirius’s turn to flip out. “No one knew! Barely anyone knows now! And-if you knew, then why didn’t you tell anyone?!”

“’Cause you would’ve gone to jail,” Regulus responded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, that kind of did happen, but you know what I mean.”

“Why-Why are you telling me now?” the older Black questioned, still shocked.

“I don’t know,” Regulus answered truthfully. “I guess it just doesn’t really matter who knows now.”

“Okay…,” Sirius trailed off, still just as confused.

“So, anyway!” Regulus cried out. “I’m guessing the Ministry doesn’t exactly know that you’re innocent, do they?”

“No they don’t,” Sirius shook his head.

“That kind of sucks,” Regulus nodded, looking down at the ground. Sirius nodded along with him in agreement. “Hey, listen.”

Regulus turned his head to look back up at his older brother, his elbows propped up on his knees. “I’m really sorry about what happened. It shouldn’t have.” He offered Sirius a quick half-smile before standing up, using his legs as leverage.

Sirius stood up too, capturing a stunned Regulus in a hug. “It’s good to have you back Reg. I mean it.” Regulus stood there, dumbfounded, before wrapping his arms around his brother. After about half a minute Regulus ended the hug awkwardly, patting Sirius on the back before exiting the room hurriedly. He leaned against the closed door, eyes closed.

“Wow,” a voice said, “I can literally feel the awkwardness and I wasn’t even in there.”

“What the-,” Regulus muttered, turning to find Ginny resting against the wall. “You’re still here?”

“Couldn’t find Tonks,” she explained, standing up straight. “Don’t worry; I didn’t hear anything, thick walls here.”

“Yeah, our family is- _was_ big on secrecy,” Regulus explained. Ginny nodded, turning to leave.

“Just a word of advice,” she said, turning slightly to face the older teen, “he’s your brother, he’ll never hate you. I’ve got six brothers and I’ve never hated a single one of them.”

Regulus stared after her as she walked away before turning around himself and leaving in the opposite direction, the youngest Weasley’s words playing on a loop in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't really have much to say this time. But, I hope you enjoyed this update!


	8. The Downsides to Sleep Depravity

“Okay, so if Voldemort doesn’t know I’m back yet, something must be wrong with the Mark,” Regulus thought out loud, pacing the dusty wooden floor. “It still looks the same, but I would have felt something when he summoned the Death Eaters. And he probably has since I got back, I can ask Severus later.”

He kept walking back and forth, pausing to lean on the desk and to sit down on the bed before springing back up again. Regulus’ hand was glued to the back of his neck. His spindly fingers toyed with the ends of his black hair and rubbed the skin continuously.

“Maybe dying somehow stopped the link to him,” he hypothesized. “Yeah, that’s probably it. Otherwise he would have known where my body was, and then he would have known what I’d done. The question is, then, why doesn’t he know that I’m back? He would have done something had he known that one of his “followers” had miraculously come back from the dead. So, suffice it to say, he doesn’t know I’m back. And the Mark has lost all power.

“But how? Me coming back to life should have…jump started it somehow. Right? There aren’t exactly a whole lot of books in the library on resurrected ex-Death Eaters.”

Regulus sat down on the bed, finally wrenching his left hand from his neck and opting for running it, along with his right, over his face before resting his head in them. He sighed deeply, flopping back onto the bed with his arms flung out from his sides, spread eagle style.

“I just want to sleep,” he murmured, letting his droopy eyelids close.

The dark circles that had become permanent tattoos underneath his eyes had also become a cause for concern from his suddenly caring brother. Every morning for the past week and a half had been an interrogation for Regulus. Had he been getting enough sleep? Did he need another room? Was he feeling ill? _No, not ill_ , Reg had thought sarcastically, _just lying awake with my head full of my last living moment on Earth_.

“Well, not _last_ ,” he now corrected, opening his eyes again and sitting back up. “Ugh, I need to do…something. Anything.”

He got up off the bed and made his way over to the box that was situated on the wooden table. Regulus slipped the intricately carved lid off of it and said the spell to remove the wood underneath. He gripped the silver chain between his forefinger and thumb, gracefully drawing the locket out of the box and letting it dangle in the air.

“You’re a curious thing aren’t you?” he murmured, allowing the pendant to spin around. The sunlight that crept in through the window reflected off of the golden surface, casting spots of light against the dark walls as it spun back and forth. “How does something so innocent become so corrupt?”

Regulus laid the locket in his palm, placing the chain behind his hand and letting it rest against the back of his fingers. He ran the tips of his fingers over the small, inlaid emeralds, tracing the S that marked the locket as Slytherin’s. He gripped the edges of the locket, trying in vain to pry them apart. They didn’t budge.

To anyone else’s eyes it would appear to be a simple locket, an example of House pride. But to Regulus it was much more. A piece of a human (although he didn’t know if that part was true anymore) soul was trapped in the locket, dormant for sixteen years. Untouched by anyone for much longer.

“But how do I kill you?” Regulus pondered audibly. The only information Regulus had ever come across on Horcuxes was in _Magick Moste Evile_ , and then it was only a sentence or two. Obviously the locket would be very difficult to destroy; house-elf magic was quite powerful stuff.

“All the books we had on the _dark_ Dark Arts were taken in a raid,” Regulus began to think out loud once more. “And there’s nothing in the Hogwart’s library that I’m aware of, not like I could get in their anyway. But there’s got to be something! Voldemort must have read about them somewhere, or heard about them from someone.”

The youngest Black stood there, lost in thought as he turned the locket over in his hands rhythmically. The questions of how to deal with the Horcrux he held and how to keep it from the other inhabitants of the house bounced around in his head. After a few minutes of thinking that lead to a dead end, Regulus placed the locket back in its box, reestablished the enchantments to protect it, and was interrupted by a shriek that was emitted from the floor below.

* * *

 

Regulus raced down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He skidded across the floor; he was only wearing socks, having had zero time to have put on shoes. He found himself at the open door of Ron and Harry’s room, if he was remembering correctly. Regulus burst into the room, eyes wide and…finding that he had no wand to defend himself. Brilliant.

“What’s going on?!” he cried. Only to be met with confused expressions from the two boys, the twins, Mrs. Weasley, and Hermione. “Is everyone okay?!”

It took them a few silent moments to formulate a response. “Yeah…are you though, mate?” Fred asked, seemingly legitimately concerned for once.

“What?” Regulus raised his eyebrows, the still alarmed expression on his face now mixing with confusion.

“Are you..okay?” George leaned forward slightly.

“Yeah, I’m… _I’m_ fine,” Regulus answered. “I heard a scream…thought someone was dying or being…you know….”

He trailed off, seeing the expressions of utter bewilderment on the group in front of him. Ron slowly held up a red and gold badge with the word Prefect blazed across it. The gears clicked in Regulus’s mind as he glanced over at Mrs. Weasley, replaying the shriek that undoubtedly belonged to her.

“Oh, so…no one’s been injured or attacked in any way shape or form?” he said, more than a bit awkwardly. His question was met with six shakes of the head and twelve wide eyes. “Okay…well…that’s good. I’m just, I’m gonna leave now. Congrats on…your achievement.” Regulus gave Ron an awkward thumbs up and proceeded to exit the room.

The people that were left behind looked at each other, George mouthing a question that caused Mrs. Weasley to hit him over the head.

* * *

 

“You okay?” Sirius slid into the seat next his brother.

“Oh my God!” Regulus exclaimed, slamming his coffee mug down on the table. “You are the fourth person to ask me that, and that includes Kreacher!”

“Sorry,” Sirius leaned back warily, “Harry and the twins told me about earlier. Just wanted to check in.”

“ _I’m fine_ ,” Regulus insisted, taking a sip of coffee.

“Are you sure?” the older Black raised an eyebrow dubiously. “You apparently, and I quote, “Looked like a crazed banshee.”

“There’s no need to add crazed before banshee, banshees are already crazy,” Regulus murmured, aggravated.

“ _Reg_ ,” Sirius stressed. “Are you okay?”

The younger sighed, seeing he was getting nowhere. “I’m fine, I swear. I just…I heard a scream and I freaked out. I guess.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Sirius didn’t sound too convinced. “Just….” He shook his head as he trailed off, choosing to not finish his thought out loud.

“What?” his brother prodded.

“Nothing,” Sirius said, rushed. “It’s just…if you…nothing. Just try to…not freak out.”

“Thanks Siri,” Regulus nodded, his face slightly quizzical and slightly disturbed. “Solid advice.” He nodded to the elder Black and got up.

“You’re welcome!” Sirius called after him. He started to draw invisible patterns on the table, tracing swirls and spirals on the aged wood. The word “Siri” repeated over and over again in his head.

* * *

 

For the second time that day Regulus’s thinking was interrupted by a loud noise. And again it was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley.

He had been wandering around the second floor, mentally cataloging all of the changes that had occurred since he’d last been there. He so far had counted six new additional elf heads, new wallpaper in two of the parlors, and about one billion new cobwebs. Not to mention all of the dust that had accumulated over the years. He was prompted to stop his search for new additions to his home by sobbing coming from a room two doors down.

He warily approached the door to what he knew to be a drawing room, careful not to repeat the events from earlier that day. The door was already open and as he entered he found a startled Harry standing quite close to the entrance.

“Harry? What’s going-,” he started to ask before he found the source of the sobbing.

Mrs. Weasley was standing over the corpse of her son, Bill. Regulus’s mind immediately went to a very dark place.

“R-Ridik-kulu-us,” she cried feebly. The spell had no effect on the, now identified, boggart in front of her.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, starting to walk over to her. Regulus put his arm in front of him as the body changed into that of Mr. Weasley. He stepped toward the Weasley mother, careful not to spook her.

“Molly,” he began quietly, “let’s let someone else deal with this, okay?”

She shook her head, unable to make an audible response through her tears. With another loud _crack_ the body turned into Harry himself, and Regulus pushed Molly and the boy behind him.

In hindsight it was probably one of the stupidest decisions of his life, right after joining the Death Eaters and the Haircut Incident of third year. _Oh yes Regulus, brilliant idea. Step in front of a boggart without a wand. Let everyone know your greatest fear. Just ingenious._ It was moments like these that made him question the pride he put into his intelligence.

With a final _crack_ the boggart shifted into its new adversary’s fear. A skeletal figure was crouched on the carpeted floor, its head bent down to show what was left of its scraggly hair and its off-white skull. It lifted its gaunt head and turned it upward to stare into Regulus’s eyes with its own lifeless, milky white orbs. It began to reach towards him, causing him to back up into the two people behind him. The three of them became squashed against the back wall, Harry made unable to draw his wand and Mrs. Weasley still to shaken by her experience with the shape shifter.

Regulus, on the other hand, remained stock still. Finding nowhere else to go, his feet seemed to grow roots that burrowed deep beneath the floor boards. He stood there, rigid and unmoving, eyes wide, unable to so much as wiggle a finger. He simply froze as the Inferius crawled closer and closer toward them.

Three more suddenly burst through the door and began to take in the scene before them. Lupin was quick to act, realizing that there was a boggart in their presence, not a reanimated corpse; he rushed in front of Regulus, causing the Inferius to change into the moon. He shouted the proper spell and waved his wand, transforming the boggart into a puff of smoke.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and pulled himself out from behind Regulus, Mrs. Weasley following him. Regulus, on the other hand, remained transfixed. His eyes were still the size of dinner plates and his breath was becoming short and ragged. Lupin was busy trying to calm down Mrs. Weasley, and Sirius was checking up on Harry. Mad Eye was the first to notice Regulus’s odd state.

“Snap out of it boy,” he growled, drawing the others’ attentions to the Black heir. Sirius quickly made his way over to his brother, careful not to touch him.

“Regulus?” he asked, receiving no response. “Reg? _Reg_? REG?!” The last shout was able to jolt the younger brother out of his trance.

Regulus blinked a few times, still disorientated. He brought his hands up to his face, a motion that the other five recognized from his first arrival, and stared at them for a while, turning them over a few times. He suddenly became aware of his surroundings, jumping back slightly as he realized how close Sirius was. Regulus stared at the other very bewildered, disturbed, and concerned people that were gaping at him.

“Right,” he mumbled. “Well…I’m going to go. Sleep is a very important thing you know. Good night.” He waved slightly as he brushed past the others and out the door. Before they could even glance at each other, Regulus’s head was peeking into the room. “OH! And if any of you ever mention this again I will personally slit your throats while you’re sleeping.” He flashed a joking, albeit creepy and downright sinister smile before disappearing down the hall.

Lupin and Sirius exchanged a glance and Moody remained as grave and intimidating as ever. Mrs. Weasley sniffled in the background; her sobbing had come to an end.

“Sirius?” Harry approached his godfather. “What was that? What did the boggart turn into?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Sirius answered rather rapidly before softening. “Come one Harry, you best be getting off to bed.”

“But-,” his godson started before being cut off by Remus.

“He’s right Harry, big day tomorrow,” the former professor smiled and then turned to the still traumatized Mrs. Weasley. “Molly, let’s go down to the kitchen. I have some chocolate there and I’ll make you some tea.” She nodded drearily and followed Lupin out of the room.

Mad-Eye left after them, as did Sirius after he gave Harry one last hug. Harry decided to follow their advice and get some rest, after a brief meeting with Ron and Hermione of course.

* * *

 

“And he just froze?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, it was like he was paralyzed,” Harry confirmed. “It was really weird.”

“Well, people have reacted worse when faced with their worst fear,” Hermione responded, thinking back to her Defense exam from two years ago.

“Well, yeah, but this was just odd,” Harry shook his head. “From what we’ve seen of Regulus, which hasn’t been much, he doesn’t seem like the type to react that way. I mean, he says Voldemort’s” –cue flinch- “name, so he probably doesn’t scare easy.”

“Harry, this was his worst fear,” Hermione insisted. “And, to some people, a name is just a name.”

“Still,” the black haired boy frowned, “it just seemed off, like he’d seen it before. And the others seemed to think so too. They were awfully secretive about it.”

“What was it that the boggart turned into?” Ron asked.

“I’m not sure,” Harry shook his head again. “Like I said, it was skeletal and gaunt. I didn’t get that good of a look.”

“Wait!” Hermione exclaimed, scaring her two friends. “What did its eyes look like?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, confused, “I think they might have been white, but I can’t be for sure. Why?"

“It just sounds familiar,” Hermione murmured. “I can look into it more once we return to Hogwarts.”

The other two nodded and bid her good night as she left to go to her room. Meanwhile, a certain ex-Death Eater was pouring over books in the library, sipping his second cup of coffee. He would consume nine by the time the sun rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...I've been gone for a while. School's been kind of rough lately, although that's not really an excuse because all I literally do is copy and paste the chapters that I wrote months ago and then publish them. But, starting now I am no longer doing that! Woohoo! I am all caught up with my fanfiction.net story, so now you'll actually have to wait for me to write stuff. I apologize in advance.


	9. Family Reunions

Regulus quietly drank his coffee and flipped through the pages of the book he was reading while the commotion outside the kitchen carried on. From what he could gather and everyone was close to missing the train. The only noise that made him put down his book (a very interesting read on the history of magic in the Americas) was a voice that sounded eerily familiar. Maybe it was the shrieking tone of it, or the rambling out “filth” and “mudbloods”.

  
“Mother,” he muttered, morbidly. He sipped from his cup thoughtfully, listening to the words that her portrait, for it couldn’t be anything else, shouted. He sat for a few seconds before marking his place in his book and setting down his cup. He rose from the small, kitchen table and exited the room, making his way into the hallway where everyone was bustling about.

Regulus was immediately affronted by a flurry on books and a mess of brown hair. He staggered back a few steps and watched the books fall while blinking rapidly.

  
“Oh my God!” Hermione cried, dropping down to snatch up the books. “I’m so sorry!”

  
“Quite alright,” Regulus assured her, kneeling down to assist. He studied the cover of one of the books as he stood up. “Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Studies? Doesn’t sound like something that’d be on a school list.”

  
Hermione blushed slightly, rearranging the books in her arms, “I’m just borrowing a few, I hope you don’t mind.”

  
“No, not at all,” Regulus shook his head, handing her the book, “I’d just be careful in these libraries if I were you, there’re books about things much darker than merpeople.”

  
The girl nodded warily and scurried away to undoubtedly put the books in her trunk. Regulus gazed after her curiously, she was a peculiar one. Reminds me of me at that age, Regulus thought to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to go down the hallway.

  
He walked up one of the winding staircases, passing the youngest Weasley on the way. He was about to go and see if he could find Kreacher (it felt odd to call for him) when he encountered the twins at one of the landings. They had their trunks next to them and were giggling to each other.

  
“What are you to up to now?” Regulus narrowed his eyes warily.

  
They both looked at him, then at each other. They smiled and one of them, probably Fred, said, “Just watch.” They lifted their wands and each mumbled a spell, causing their trunks to float. They swished their wands and their trunks began to soar down the stairs. The young Black watched for a few seconds, amused by their antics, before making a realization.

  
“Ginny,” he breathed before promptly jumping on the banister and sliding down. He could see the twins’ horrified expressions as he swept past, they seemed to understand what was happening. Unfortunately, their trunks didn’t seem to be stopping.

  
Regulus sped down the stair banister, only using a bit of…extra help for speed. He jumped off of the banister, landing one flight of stairs down below, next to a confused redhead. With any explanation he grabbed her and pulled her to the side of the stairs right before the two trunks whizzed past them, continuing their journey to the ground floor.

  
He let go of Ginny abruptly, awkwardly stepping into the middle of the stairs. “Sorry about that,” he winced, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

  
Ginny actually didn’t seem all that scared, annoyed rather. “Fred and George?” was all she said. He only nodded in confirmation.

  
“You alright down there?” their freckled faces possessed wide grins as they peered over the railings a few flights above, but their eyes held genuine concern.  
“No thanks to you!” Ginny yelled back. She turned to Regulus, “Thanks.” Then she continued on her trip downstairs as if she hadn’t almost been crushed by flying luggage.  
What an odd family, Regulus thought as the twins’ laughter filled his ears.

* * *

 Apparently Regulus was not the only one who was aware of the twins’ antics; they had caused quite the ruckus downstairs. The young man arrived at the bottom of the stairs to find that Mrs. Weasley was quite upset with her children, as was his own mother. The red haired woman was currently screaming up at Fred and George, who were both smart enough not to come down just yet.

Regulus’s own mother, on the other hand, was not yelling up the stairs, but rather yelling at the air. As he looked down the hallway Regulus could just make out a painting of some sort with black curtains that were drawn back. Well, they seemed to have been forced back. His mother’s trademark shrill, yet very loud, voice was yelling about “half-breeds” and “blood traitor scum” like before. Which was, of course, very lovely to hear and Regulus put his head as far down as it could go as he made his way into the kitchen. He hadn’t gotten anything in his body except the coffee from earlier.

  
Just as he was reach for the doorknob someone whizzed past him, causing Regulus to turn in a drunken circle. Hermione and Harry were hurrying toward the door, a cat in the girl’s arms and a cage in the boy’s.

  
“Harry, you’re to come with me and Tonks,” Mrs. Weasley seemed to have finished berating the twins. “Leave your trunk and your owl, Alastor’s going to deal with the luggage…. Oh for heaven’s sake Sirius, Dumbledore said no!”

  
A giant black dog brushed past Regulus and bounded toward the three people standing in front of the door. Harry seemed quite delighted at the presence of his godfather; Mrs. Weasley was less than pleased. Regulus himself decided it was time to remind them all that he existed and that there was no one else left in the large house to watch him. Not that he needed watching of course, but still.

  
“I have to agree with Mrs. We-Molly on this one dear brother,” he commented as he stepped over the last of the trunks that littered the hall. “Far too dangerous. But, you Gryffindors like that kind of thing don’t you?”

  
The dog gave him a look that could only convey one thing, “fuck off”.

  
“How do you know that’s Sirius?” Hermione’s eyes narrowed, as did those of the cat in her arms.

  
“Well, Molly just referred to him as such,” Regulus said pointedly, “and his friends called him Padfoot for five years. Not that hard to deduce.”

  
“That’s not important right now,” Mrs. Weasley stopped Hermione from questioning him further. “How could we have forgotten, who’s going to watch Regulus while we’re dropping you all off?”

  
No one seemed to have an answer.

 

“Well,” Regulus started, “I don’t exactly need a babysitter.”

  
This caused Sirius to glare at him in a way that meant “really, really?”. Yes, really, Regulus thought.

  
“Look, I don’t even have a wand,” the teenager defended himself to the incredulous stares he was getting. “And if I was going to apparate away I would have done so by now.”

  
“Wait, you don’t have a wand?!” Harry asked.

  
“Nope,” Regulus said, popping the “p”, “you guys didn’t know that?”

  
His answer was met with three human head shakes and one canine one.

  
“Seriously?” he said, thankful that Sirius couldn’t make a pun in his present state. “An ex-Death Eater that is possibly dangerous is resurrected from the dead and none of you thought to confiscate or check for a wand?”

  
Again he was met with head shakes.

  
“These are the people that are supposed to be protecting you from evil?” he asked Harry, who nodded in response. “If I were you I’d be worried mate.”

  
“We can’t just leave you here all alone,” Mrs. Weasley continued on. “Even if Dumbledore put up anti-apparation wards on the house” a quite “thank Merlin” could be heard from Regulus “we can’t just trust that you won’t do anything.”

  
“Rude,” Regulus mumbled. Sirius snorted in response.

  
Any verbal response was cut short by the front door swinging open loudly. “What’s taking you so long?” Tonks said over Mrs. Black’s screeching.

  
“We forgot about Regulus,” Molly told her.

  
“Just leave him, he’s fine,” Tonks said impatiently, her eyebrows raised.

  
“We can’t just leave him!”

  
“Well we can’t take him with us,” Tonks replied.

  
“Someone has to be available to stay behind,” Molly shot back. Her gaze drifted down to Sirius, who pressed close to his godson’s side. Harry’s fingers gripped his dark fur tightly, making it clear that Sirius was going with him.

  
“I don’t see why he can’t just stay here for less than half an hour,” Tonks argued. “It’s not like he’s going here. And Mad-Eye’s getting even more impatient than usual.”

  
“He can’t just stay here all by himself!” Mrs. Weasley countered.

  
“He is right here and he doesn’t even have a wand and evidently can’t apparate,” Regulus finally interjected. All eyes turned to him. “Guys. We all know there’s basically nothing that I can do, and you’re going to be late. Don’t want to miss that train.”

  
Mrs. Weasley and Hermione didn’t seem like they wanted to just leave, but Tonks was busy dragging Harry out of the door with Sirius trailing behind him. The other two took one last glance at Regulus before walking after the other two. Mrs. Weasley stuck her head around the door one last time.

  
“Mad-Eye will be back in a little bit to get the luggage,” she said before closing the door behind all of them.

  
And with that Regulus was left alone in the big and empty Black house with only a screaming portrait as company. A screaming portrait of his dead mother. Who hadn’t seen him in sixteen years. And was evidently insane.

* * *

Regulus took a deep breath before turning around and walking down the hall. His mother’s portrait hadn’t noticed him when he walked by earlier, hopefully she wouldn’t now either. But the Black family wasn’t exactly known for their luck, now were they?

  
“Regulus?” the same shrill voice asked, much quieter than it had been before. The boy stopped in his tracks, stayed there for a few seconds, and then turned to face his dead mother.

  
“Mother,” he nodded in response. Her bloodshot eyes were wide and her black hair was a tangled mess. Regulus wasn’t sure if that was just how she’d looked when the painting was done, or if she had turned that way over time. Could portrait’s subjects change? Regulus wasn’t exactly well read on magical paintings.

  
“H-how are you here?” she asked, obviously shocked. Regulus was quite for a while, shifting back from one foot to another.

  
“I-I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “No of them do either.” Well, the second half wasn’t as honest. A blind man could tell that the others were hiding something.

  
“Where did you go?” she asked. “T-they never found a body. Everyone said that you l-left Him, but I knew it couldn’t be true. You’d never do that to t-his family.”

  
“Oh, I did,” he snapped quickly. Her eyes went even wider.

  
“N-no, no, you w-,” she started before he quickly cut her off.

  
“I did,” he repeated, “and now I’m back.”

  
“And how did you die?” she bounced back fast. “There wasn’t a body, and-did you even die?”

  
“Yes,” he said. “And now I’m here, with Sirius and the others.”

  
“That blood traitor,” she spat. “At least you’re here now. You can redeem yourself by getting him and the rest of those mudblood lovers out!”

  
“Fat chance of that happening,” Regulus muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  
“What?!” she cried.

  
“I said fat chance,” he repeated, smiling. Then he added, “Bitch.”

  
“WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!” his mother shrieked, returning to full on banshee mode. Regulus grabbed the ends of the curtains and yanked them shut. This didn’t seem to shut her up though, as a bought of screaming followed his actions. With a quick hand wave she was quieted, though.

  
At that exact moment the front door opened and the grizzly auror who seemed to have a personal vendetta against Regulus stepped through. He glanced at the young Black and then at the portrait he was standing in front of.

  
“How did you manage that?” he asked, blatantly suspicious. Regulus stepped back from the painting and stood to face the much older man head on.

  
“Old family secret,” he said vaguely for way of an answer.

  
“Your brother doesn’t know it then,” Moody growled.

  
“Well, the definition of ‘family’ in the Black house is rather…ambiguous,” Regulus smiled charmingly, although he knew the man would never fall for such a thing.

  
“So I’ve heard,” Mad-Eye said. He glared at Regulus for a time that definitely could have been shortened by a great deal. “We’ve arranged for Bill Weasley to come back in a few minutes, the others should be back within the hour.”

  
“Seems like a long time to just drop off a few kids at a train station.” Regulus enjoyed messing with this guy.

  
“They’re very close,” Moddy’s eyes narrowed, “need time for goodbyes and the like.”

  
“Of course,” Regulus grinned, “I’m sure the fact that the train leaves in twenty minutes won’t cut their time short.”

  
“Of course not.” The old auror shot back. He gave Regulus one last death stare before magically shrinking the luggage and making his exit.

  
Regulus stood there grinning for a minute before chuckling softly and turning on his heel. The young black heir whistled his way into the kitchen and practically danced through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from the dead! Let's just say that the past few months have been quite shitty for me, but all is well and  
> I am back.


	10. Connecting the Stars

Regulus was sat down at the kitchen table, resting his head on his steepled hands, when the door opened. He wiped the last crumbs from the toast he had been eating off of his mouth and rose from  his position. The young man stepped out into the hallway, closing the kitchen door behind him. As he did this the figure of the eldest Weasley child came into his view. Bill was currently closing the front door and turned to face the Black heir, his ginger ponytail swinging.

"Regulus, hey," he greeted him, walking over to the younger man.

"Hey," Regulus responded, looking up at the man now in front of him. "Merlin, you're tall."

"And you're short," Bill observed, smirking slightly. Regulus's face immediately went from "so nice to see you" to "I will murder you one thousand times".

"I am five feet seven and a half inches tall, which is only one and a half inches shorter than the statistical average," he recited, glaring daggers up at the (much) taller man.

"Geez man," Bill put both hands out in front of himself, "chill." Regulus's eyes narrowed before he turned on his heels and started down the hallway.

"You know I'm supposed to watch you!" Bill called after him.

"You guys let me wander alone before," Regulus called over his shoulder. He slid on his sock-clad as he walked away.

"Yeah," Bill answered, catching up the younger boy, his long legs making the feat quite simple, "but that was when there was a house full of people."

"Fine," Regulus huffed, walking faster, "I hope you like books."

"Yeah...but I also like tea," Bill gestured back to the kitchen.

Regulus stopped abruptly, looking up at the ginger with a disgusted expression distorting his face. "Figures," he sneered before placing his right foot on the first step.

Bill furrowed his brows, looking at the dark walls surrounding him as if one of them held an answer to the Black's oddness. Finding none he raced after the boy, taking the stairs two steps at a time to catch up with him.

* * *

The state of the library was...shocking to Bill's eyes. It wasn't a mess, there weren't books thrown across the room or chairs stacked in odd ways. In fact, the whole place was surprisingly clean. The dust that had become a sort of second skin for the whole house was gone from the room, and the cobwebs that clung to every corner in the old building were nowhere to be seen.

Regulus had been cleaning.

Bill turned around slowly, staring in barely concealed awe at the ornate tables that were evenly placed in lines between the shelves of books that ran through the library like rows in a cornfield. Their legs looked like small, dark balls placed on top of each other, the four of them supporting black table tops with white dotted and silver lined patterns decorating their surfaces. He couldn't tell exactly what the patterns were of, but they were intricate and captivating. Small words were inscribed with the same silver along the curved edges of the tables. Bill couldn't make out what the words were, but they appeared to be in French.

The book shelves were masterpieces just by themselves. The tops were adorned with small wood carvings of different animals and figures. The shelf that Regulus was currently standing on tiptoes to search for books had what looked like a Hydra on one end and a swan on the other.

Bill approached the Hydra end, he drew a chair from a nearby table and clambered atop of it. he reached up and traced the figurine with his fingers, feeling the deep grooves and notches. The mythical creature was very detailed, each scale had been meticulously carved out and each section of the animal had been paid equal attention to. What caught Bill off guard was that the eyes of the carving had been crossed out. Not in the same careful fashion that the whole figure had been crafted with, but with choppy, rapid movement. Bill ran his finger over the deep gashes, confused.

While the Black heir combed through the books, oblivious to the Weasley, Bill dragged the chair over to the other end of the shelf and examined the swan at the top. It had been carved with the same attention to detail as the Hydra on the other end. Its eyes were still intact however.

"Hey, Regulus," he called down to the younger boy. He jumped is surprise, almost losing his footing but regaining it at the last moment.

"Yeah?" he responded, seemingly a bit miffed at being interrupted in his searching.

"What are these carvings for?" Bill fingered the swan's open wings thoughtfully before turning his gaze down at Regulus expectantly. The boy sighed.

"They're members of the family," he said. At Bill's confused expression he continued exasperatingly. "The swan you're touching is supposed to represent my Uncle Cygnus. You see, all of the House of Black are named after stars or constellations or any shit in space really. Cygnus is a swan. Uncle Alphard is on the other end, Alphard is a star in the Hydra constellation, the heart of it."

As soon as Regulus was finished with his explanation he returned to his task of looking at the shelves for...whatever he was looking for. Bill feared for his life if he were to ask why Alphard's eyes were practically gouged out.

"Do you have one?" he couldn't help but ask. Regulus groaned audibly before reluctantly pointing to the far right corner. Bill smiled at the kid's agitation and climbed off of his chair. He placed the piece of furniture back where it belonged.

He made his way over to the far side of the library, glancing up at the different carvings of bears, twins, and queens. He found the bookshelf shoved up against two walls quite easily. Stealing another chair from a table, Bill was able to see Regulus's figurine head on.

It was a lion. The word "ironic" couldn't help creeping up in the back of Bill's mind. He didn't know much about celestial bodies, so maybe Regulus's was on the other end. Bill moved the chair to the other end and stood up on it. Nope. The lion was definitely Regulus's.

The carving on the other end was of a dog. Bill knew right away who the dog was for. _Sirius_ , he thought. And staring at the deep gouges where the dog's eyes should have been made it painfully obvious to Bill what the missing eyes meant.

_Damn._

Bill looked over to where Regulus was sitting, he was hunched over a large tome at one of the ornate tables. His hair was ruffled and unkempt, his clothes wrinkled. He wasn't wearing any shoes. And in that moment it struck Bill how young the man, no...the _boy_ , was.

Eighteen. Just eighteen years old. Barely older than Fred and George. Bill wondered how many months he'd been graduated before he died, it couldn't have been very many.

 _Fuck_ , Bill thought. He'd heard a little about Regulus from Lupin and Sirius prior to the boy's resurfacing. From the snippets he'd picked up, the story's of the Black family, and the general feeling one gets living at Grimmauld Place the eldest Weasley child had developed an idea of the younger Black brother that conjured  images of long, dark cloaks, silver masks, and sinister smiles. And of a man older than Bill was.

But now the real person, not the images that Bill's brain had provided for him, sat across the room from him. And Bill realized that he was nothing like what came to mind when the name Regulus Black was mentioned.

The Weasley carefully and soundlessly placed the chair he stood atop of back to where he got it. He made his way back to the table where Regulus sat, snatching a book about who knows what from one of the bookshelves as he walked. He sat down next to the kid, earning himself a quick glance and a raised eyebrow before Regulus returned to his book.

Bill opened the book he had grabbed at random and...good Lord. The pictures in the book (which Bill now saw was titled _Zoloto Zyablik's Anatomical Findings of Russian Magical Creatures, Translated by Lev Serdtse_ ) were very graphic. Too graphic. Bill flipped a few pages until he found one with just text. He read a few lines about something called a Pogrebin, which Bill could vaguely remember learning about in Defense Against the Dark Arts back in his school days, before glancing at Regulus. The boy's hair was falling over his eyes but Bill could still see the dark circles underneath them. He looked tired.

The next ten minutes consisted of Bill pretending to read and sneaking glances at Regulus and Regulus reading and pretending not to see Bill looking. Finally the young man interrupted the uncomfortable silence by snapping his book shut.

"Whatever it is you want to know just ask, 'cause this is getting weird," Regulus commanded, annoyance flashing through his clear, gray eyes. A few more seconds of silence.

"I was just wondering...how old were you," Bill asked, "when Sirius...?"

Regulus was obviously not expecting that question. His eyes widened ever so slightly and his eyebrows raised one centimeter. "Um...," this was probably the first time Regulus had seen the kid flustered, "I-I was fourteen."

Bill nodded in response and returned to fake reading the disgusting volume open before him.

"Do-Do you know _why_ we're all named after stars and shit?" Bill slowly raised his head to look at Regulus. To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

"No," he said softly. Bill could tell that whatever the young Black was going to tell him was going to be something he instantly regretted.

"A long time ago, before telescopes and astrolabes and all that junk, people thought stars were holes in the sky, or candles, something like that," Regulus's eyes did not leave the table. "It was only after Aristotle's theory of aether and other astronomer's contributions that they come to a sort of agreement on what exactly stars were."

Bill knew well enough by now not to question _how_ exactly the kid knew this stuff. He still didn't look up to face the Weasley.

"Most people around that time saw the stars as influencers to the natural world. They caused everything from births to earthquakes to crop failure. They were...they were the hands of God, if you will.

"Now, most would think that the family tradition of naming babies after celestial bodies would have to do with our ancestors believing that our family had the said power of the stars. That we shaped the word to our liking and willed other to do as we pleased. But that's...that's not entirely true."

Regulus cleared his throat.

"The-The word 'star' does not have a certain history, no one's one hundred percent sure where it came from. But one popular theory is that it came from something meaning 'to scatter'. Which makes sense, as the stars look to be scattered across the sky. 'Constellation' means 'to set or to shine with stars'.  Pretty, uh, pretty self explanatory."

One thing everyone in the house, Bill included, had learned in their short time living with him was that Regulus tended to ramble when uncomfortable, nervous, or excited. Exactly as he seemed to be doing now.

"Most constellations we refer to today were created by the Greeks and Romans. They were patterns found in the sky used to explain events or natural phenomena that occurred down on the Earth. There's a story behind every single one, behind each star in each constellation in each galaxy. But that's...that's beside the point."

Regulus seemed to be collecting his thoughts, trying to remember where he had left off before he let his nerves takeover. Bill gave him the time he needed.

"The _point_ is that these people were able to connect these stars that were, _are_ , light years apart from one another and set them together. These...these scattered holes in the night sky shone together, that's what those people saw. That they were _together_ , even in the vastness of space that was thought to be much smaller _then_ than what we know today...they were seen together, not separated.

"Our family motto is 'Toujours Pur', which you probably already know translates to 'Always Pure'. But much like the saying 'Curiosity killed the cat' is actually elongated to 'Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back' or 'Blood is thicker than water' is meant to mean 'The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb', the motto has changed over time. _Originally_ , dated so far back it's practically impossible to find, the phrase was 'Toujurs pur contre la noirceur de la nuit.'"

Bill couldn't help but note the perfect French accent.

"'Toujours pur contre la noirceur de la nuit'," Regulus repeated to himself, tracing lines on the tabletop. "It means 'Always pure against the blackness of the night'. From what I can gather the original motto was meant to illustrate that _no matter what_...the family would stick together."

Bill felt himself finally starting to understand what the young boy was telling him.

"And no matter what the motto has evolved into today and no matter what people, inside or outside of the family, assume it means, that was always the purpose of the children of the Black family being named after the stars. Because, like the stars, no matter what we were meant to stick together. To stand out against the darkness and never be separated."

Regulus swallowed heavily, taking his book in one hand and finally looking up at Bill. Never had he seen this much emotion in the usually carefully guarded boy's face.

"But," and here he smiled a sad, bittersweet smile, "much like phrases and meanings are lost over time, so are the values behind them."

He nodded in way of farewell and left Bill alone at the table in the too big library, in the too big, too empty house.

He sat there for a while, lost in his own thoughts. Trying to process the conversation he had just had. Eventually he got up, hoping that the tea he had wanted earlier would be helpful, but stopped short. Looking closer at the table Bill was able to make out what the seemingly random design was. He should know better than to think that _anything_ involving the Black family would ever be random.

They were stars.

All the little white dots seemed to shine. Bill knew that there must be some magic involved because they literally _shone_. Giving off such little light that at first glance one would never notice. Small silver lines that were almost unnoticeable connected some of the stars. Constellations. Bill had a hunch that each table showed a different part of the night sky.

 _I've got to see this place in the dark sometime_ , he made a mental note. Another thought struck him and he looked at where Regulus had been tracing, again, a seemingly random pattern. Bill's breath hitched in his throat.

It was Canis Major. The chest of the Greater Dog constellation shone particularly brightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm not dead. There's really no excuse to where I've been. Let's just say that for an entire month I studied for AP Euro for at least an hour every day, and then after the AP exam I suddenly realized I had finals to study for. And then once school ended I had Driver's Ed (I can now drive by the way) and am currently teaching vocals for Willy Wonka Jr. But yeah, there's really no excuse. I hope this chapter wasn't too disappointing, I had a lot of fun researching shit for it. Until next time!


	11. Tea and Coffee

“But how did you break out of the collapsed tomb?” Regulus leaned forward, gripping his mug of coffee tightly in his now warm hands.

“Oh, that’s the best part,” Bill chuckled. “Okay, so all the stones and rocks had tumbled down and blocked the entrance, right? And the three of us were, obviously, flipping our shit.”

Regulus grinned widely at the elder Weasley, enraptured in the story.

“Eventually Deaton had calmed down enough to actually try to figure out how to get out. Callie and I were still freaking out, but he managed to loosen one of the bigger rocks while we were planning our funerals. Somehow he was able to reach through and grab one of our wands. It was Callie’s,” Bill told the young Black heir. “She was a bit...preoccupied with trying not to lose her mind. So Deaton had to slap me across the face, not once, but twice, to get me back to reality. Together we were able to calm Callie down enough so that she could at least hold her wand without shaking too badly. It took her a few minutes before she was able to Bombardo a human sized hole in the rock wall. But, unfortunately for us, we were then forced to deal with the Sphinx we’d left back there.”

“I’d forgotten about the Sphinx!” Regulus cried out, sipping his coffee afterward.

“So had we!” Bill nodded. “Its riddle was still the same, but through some random guessing and Deaton almost having a mental breakdown, we were able to figure it out.”

“What was it?” Regulus asked, eyes wide.

“Angler fish.”

“Oh...of course,” Regulus breathed.

“Anyway, after that small hiccup we retrieved our wands and made our way back out,” Bill continued. “We only got lost twice and made it to the surface in half an hour with almost all of the gold. It was one of our more successful missions.”

“Damn,” Regulus said, setting down his mug. “If that was successful...no wonder you transferred.”

Bill hummed in agreement. He took his own mug, which was half full of tea, and drained the rest of it in a few quick gulps. “The new work at Gringotts isn’t nearly as exciting, but at least Mom isn’t as worried anymore.”

“Well that’s good,” Regulus sipped his coffee. He smiled up at Bill, “She seems nice.”

“She’s great, albeit a bit misguided at times, but she’s...she’s Mom, you know?”

“Um...not really,” Regulus glanced down at the table before looking back up, “but I think I...understand...somewhat.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “That made zero sense,” he told Regulus frankly. They both stared at each other for a minute before they burst out laughing.

“I suppose it didn’t make much sense, did it?” Regulus chuckled. He sighed, blowing a tiny curl out of his face. “When are the others supposed to come back again?”

Bill glanced at his watch, frowning. “Should be back...any minute now…,” he trailed off expectantly, looking at the door. Regulus turned to glance at the door, his eyebrows raised, and then he turned back to Bill.

“That was really lame,” he said. Bill nodded sadly.

“It was,” he sighed. “But in all serious they’ll be back soon.”

Regulus nodded and nursed his coffee. Bill stared awkwardly at the table, tracing the lines in the grain absentmindedly.

“Are you okay?” he asked the Black boy. Regulus’ head jolted up, brow furrowed.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?” Bill repeated, emphasizing his words a bit more.

“I’m fine,” Regulus shrugged before sipping from the mug in his hands. Bill worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Are you sure? Because earlier you-,” he started to say.

“I’m fine,” Regulus cut him off, smiling grimly. “I’m...I’m fine. Trust me.”

Bill looked as if he was going to contradict the younger boy, but seemed to think better of it and simply stated, “If you say so.”

Regulus wiggled his eyebrows mischievously at Bill, causing the older man to roll his eyes and get up from the table. The young boy reminded Bill of Fred and George in a way, and he couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing. A resounding knock at the door jerked Bill’s neck around to face the hallway. He pushed in his chair and made his way down the hall to the front door.

“Bill! Open up!” Tonks’s voice yelled through the dark wood. The eldest Weasley child obeyed, unlocking the door and stepping aside for the parade of people to enter the building. Tonks brushed past him first, then Mad-Eye, followed by a forlorn dog he knew to be Sirius, and a visibly annoyed Lupin made up the rear. Bill shut the door behind them, trailing after the small group with furrowed eyebrows.

“Where’s the kid?” Mad-Eye asked as Sirius changed back into his usual self and dusted off his coat.

“In the kitchen,” Bill caught up with them. “Where are my pa-?”

“You let him out of your sight?!” the grizzled auror growled, turning on Bill.

“He’s not gonna do anything,” Bill sighed, stepping back slightly. “Now where exactly are my parents?”

“They went back to the Burrow early,” Tonks told him, rolling her eyes at Mad-Eye. “Probably to get away from Moody, who’s completely lost his mind!” She turned her gaze harshly to Mad-Eye.

“You didn’t talk to him before we left!” Moody turned on the metamorphmagus.

“I did and you’re being paranoid!” Tonks glared at him.

“We’ve been gone for one hour, Mad-Eye,” Sirius sighed, placing himself between the two aurors. “Bill was here with him. What do you think could’ve happened?”

“What could have happened?!” Moody roared. “Have you met your brother, Black?”

“I have,” Bill said, reminding all of them of his presence. “Regulus is a good kid. And I was with him this whole time.”

“A ‘good kid’?” Alastor repeated in disbelief. “Have you taken a good look at his left arm lately, Weasley?”

“Yes!” Bill felt a slight rage bubbling inside him as he spoke. He was about to continue but was cut off.

“In these past five minutes we could have been in there talking to him and figuring all of this out,” Lupin spoke for the first time, his annoyance have visibly risen in said five minutes.

Mad-Eye took four more seconds to stare at Bill, his one fake eye penetrating into the man’s very soul, before spinning around and barging into the kitchen. The other four Order members hung back and shared an incredulous glance, and then followed Moody.

The group was greeted by an empty kitchen. Bill gritted his teeth and prayed to every God of every religion he knew that Alastor Moody would not explode from rage that very second. Apparently one of those Gods must have existed because the auror did not explode. Instead, he started growling. Literally growling.

“A good kid? Is that right?” He glared at Bill as if he wanted nothing more to rip his ponytail off of his head. He probably would have if Regulus had not suddenly walked around the corner, fresh cup of coffee in one hand and book splayed open with the fingers of the other. The young boy glanced up from his book (Bill couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but the cover had some sort of herb on it) and stared at the newcomers.

“Hi,” he waved with his cup, “everyone on their way to Hogwarts safely?”

If looks could kill, then Regulus would have died for the second time, right then and there.

“As I said, paranoid,” Tonks leaned in close to Mad-Eye for the last word. She pranced off to where Regulus had entered from, presumably to make herself a drink of some sort. Bill would bet his broomstick there was some alcohol involved.

Moody snarled at Regulus one last time before leaving the kitchen. The sound of the front door slamming echoed throughout the house.

Regulus simply raised an eyebrow at the three men left standing in the doorway and gestured with his book.

“He thought you were...doing something,” Bill pursed his lips, looking from side to side.

“Doing...what?” Regulus gestured wildly with both hands, somehow not spilling his coffee. Which was rather remarkable , seeing as it was filled to the rim.

“I don’t even know,” Lupin sighed dramatically. “Torturing kittens or something.” He brushed past Sirius and followed Tonks into the back of the kitchen.

“Kittens?” Regulus furrowed his brow, turning to look at his brother and Bill. “I mean, puppies maybe. But never kittens.”

“I take offense to that,” Sirius stated.

Regulus shrugged and sat down, consuming himself in his book. Which, come to think of it, where had he even gotten that from? Bill shook his head and walked over to the side of Regulus.

“Yeah?” Regulus asked, not looking up from the yellowed pages with drawing of plants with razor sharp teeth inked on them.

“My parents went back to the burrow,” Bill started, “so I’m gonna head over there before I go back to my flat.”

“Awesome,” was the Black’s emotionless response. Regulus tore his eyes away from his book, “Did you need something?”

Bill was taken aback for a second. “Just...wanted to say goodbye.”

Regulus looked genuinely shocked, an expression that rarely covered the short boy’s face. “Oh. Well, goodbye then.”

“I’ll probably come around a few times, but yeah,” Bill grinned at the younger man, “goodbye...Shorty.”

Regulus frowned in way of response, so Bill just chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair. Regulus’s frown deepened and an indignant “Oi!” left his lips. The eldest Weasley child turned on his heels and exited the kitchen.

“Later kid!” he called over his shoulder as he reached the front door. He stopped abruptly and turned back to see Sirius, still standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at him. He felt as though he should go get Sirius, pull him aside to talk, but something deep in his mind advised against it. Bill shook his head, making his ponytail swing slightly, and yanked the door open.

He stepped out into the cool September air, the door slowly closing behind him. He pondered the Black brothers for a minute, everything he had learned in the past hour flowing through his head like a river over bumpy rocks. All of these thoughts disappeared, along with him, as a small “Pop!” sounded in the desolate neighborhood.

* * *

 Remus handed Sirius a cup of chamomile tea as both men took a seat at the kitchen table.

“Where’s Tonks?” the animagus asked, graciously accepting the steaming mug.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Remus answered honestly. “I’m assuming there’s some other way out of the kitchen. If so, she’s wherever that is getting drunk.”

“Fantastic,” Sirius said, silently wishing he could join her. Remus nodded in response, sipping his tea with a bitter expression.

“Seems like all of you had a fun time,” Regulus commented whilst flipping a page.

“Fun is definitely a word that is used to describe things,” Sirius told him. The younger brother raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“Yes,” Remus agreed sarcastically, “it’s always fun to be stuck with a pissed of Alastor Moody for an hour.”

“Sounds like it,” Regulus nodded. He placed his book, pages down with his place marked, on the table and wrapped his long fingers around his cup.

“Seems like you and Bill had a good time, at least,” Sirius prodded.

“Yeah,” Regulus answered, absentmindedly. “He told me about his work in Egypt.”

“Cool...cool.” Sirius drank his tea noisily, slurping the golden liquid.

“So everyone did get on the train safely?” Regulus asked, looking at his brother for the answer.

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius nodded. “Almost missed it, but all the kids were fine.”

“That’s good.”

The three men sat in awkward silence, drinking their beverages of choice. Regulus eventually returned to his book, the sound of pages turning filling the emptiness with sound. Silent slurps bounced off of the wooden walls and the granite countertops. Soft breathing contracted in the small space and the ticking of the clock tapped against every surface.

Remus drank his tea as quickly as he could, burning his tongue once or twice in the process. “I’m gonna go make sure Tonks doesn’t die from alcohol poisoning,” he said as he got up from the table.

“Probably a good idea,” Sirius waved in way of goodbye.

The door closed softly behind Remus, as he was careful to shut it quietly, and it left the room eerily silent. The two black brothers sat there, neither saying a word. Sirius’s mind was whirring with unanswered questions and thoughts he could never vocalize. Regulus’s eyes ran over the words before him, but his brother could tell that not a single one was comprehended by the boy. The silence draped over them, suffocating Sirius and weighing heavily on his body.

“So it’s just going to be us for a while now,” he said, attempting to shrug it off. “Tonks and Lupin and us, I mean.”

Regulus nodded, pretending to still be reading.

“Mad-Eye will most likely be dropping by every now and then,” Sirius divulged. “So will the Weasleys, a few other members of the Order-”

“He doesn’t like me, does he?” Regulus asked abruptly, looking up from his book.

“Mad-Eye?” Sirius sat his mug down. “I don’t think he likes anyone.”

“He stares at me like I’m about to set the house on fire,” Regulus raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well…,” Sirius started, “he’s a tad paranoid. Moody’s spent his whole life hunting down dark wizards and you have to understand that….”

“That I, the eighteen year old wandless kid, am dangerous?” Regulus’s face was the epitome of disbelief.

“You are also a resurrected ex-Death Eater,” Sirius reminded him.

Regulus ran his tongue over his teeth, his lips still closed. “Still...I’m not going to burn the house down. I have to live here, too.”

Sirius choked on his laughter, almost spilling his tea as he brought it to his lips. Regulus grinned, as if the subject they were joking about wasn’t as serious as it was. The two brothers sat at the table, drinking tea and coffee and laughing. Regulus’s discarded herbology book lay forgotten by Remus’s cup ring on the ebony table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been gone for a while...sorry. Life sucks ass and school has eaten my life. So has debate. Yay. I actually really love debate, so yay!


	12. Chicken Noodle Soup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit an update! Fair warning, a large portion of this chapter was probably based on my post-wisdom teeth surgery, anesthesia mindset and subsequent slightly-high-on-painkillers filled days. Said surgery took place two days after my sixteenth birthday and five days before Christmas, which is today. Merry Christmas everyone! And happy holidays for all the other religions! (Sorry for all the exclamation points, I'm getting laptop for Christmas and I'm super hyped. Also it's 2:35 AM and I need sleep.)

“Are you...sick?” Sirius asked, narrowing his eyes at his younger brother. 

Currently Regulus was sitting at the kitchen table, his usual cup of coffee between his hands. What was unusual was that said hands were even paler than normal and slightly clammy. The young man was also wrapped in a blanket, his hair sticking up in every direction, and his nose was suspiciously red. So were the tips of his ears. He sniffled loudly, clearing his throat before coughing unexpectedly. 

“No,” he said, eyes half-lidded. Regulus sniffed again. 

“Right…,” Sirius said slowly, sliding into the seat across from his brother. “Second question, did you sleep at all last night?”

“Yes...definitely,” Regulus nodded, the dark circles under his eyes contradicting his words.

“Of course,” Sirius nodded in fake agreement. “Third question, how many cups of coffee have you had since seven o’clock last night?”

“Two times six divided by three plus seven…,” Regulus brought his current cup of coffee to his lips, despite the obvious fact that the cup was now empty.

“So...eleven?” Sirius raised his eyebrows. 

“Eleven, one, twenty-one, they all have ones,” Regulus slurred.

“That they do, that they do,” Sirius responded, concern inching into his voice. “Listen, I’m gonna take this.” He reached for Regulus’s cup and was met with the most pathetic of resistances to stop him. Sirius placed the empty cup next to him and stood up slowly. 

“Hey Remus?” he called, his eyes never leaving his younger brother’s pitiful form. 

“Yeah?” his friend asked, his head popping up around the kitchen door. 

“Is Regulus drunk? Or high, maybe?” Sirius furrowed his brow. Remus fully entered the room and walked over to Regulus. The younger man shied away from him, leaning away whilst grumbling incoherently. Remus glared at the boy, surreptitiously sniffing him in the process. He leaned back from the young Black and straightened up to face Sirius. 

“No,” he stated. “However, he is most definitely ill.”

“No’m’not,” Regulus mumbled, pulling his blanket tighter around him. Both elder men looked at him and then shared a glance.

“Alright then,” Remus said, clapping his hands. “I have to go meet with Emmeline to discuss some new information and Tonks is already out with Mad-Eye...so I’m gonna leave you to deal with...this.” He gestured to the sick and abject body before them. 

“What? Remus, no!” Sirius protested, following his old friend to the front door. 

“Have fun!” Remus grinned sarcastically before slamming the door behind him. 

Sirius stood in front of the closed door, eyes burning holes into the dark wood. “I need better friends.” He turned around and made his way back to the kitchen. Sirius found Regulus, still blanketed and sniffly, waiting for him with a new cup of coffee nestled between his sweater covered fingers. 

“Where did you even…?” Sirius trailed off as he snatched the mug from his younger brother. 

“Magic,” Regulus garbled, making weird motions with his hands. 

“Whatever you say kiddo,” Sirius covered his brother’s hands with his own. He then grabbed Regulus’s shoulders and attempted to pull him up out of the chair. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“No, no’tired,” Regulus protested, swatting at Sirius’s hands. 

“Sure,” Sirius nodded, gripping Regulus’s arms firmly and yanking him out of the chair. Regulus grumbled something about dumb dogs and eyebrows as his blanket slipped off of his shoulders. “Here, you keep that.” Sirius draped the blanket over Regulus, ignoring his unintelligent ramblings. “Come with me.”

The elder Black lead the younger out of the kitchen and down the hall to the stairs. Climbing the stairs was a tremendous feat that mainly consisted of Sirius half carrying and half dragging his brother up the steps. When he finally lead Regulus onto the right landing, Sirius sighed with relief and almost dropped his brother. “Last stretch here, kiddo.” 

A couple more minutes and Sirius was guiding Regulus into bed, despite his inarticulate objections. Sirius had to almost tear the blanket from his sibling and then proceeded to remove Regulus’s shoes with great difficulty. His brother stood there, feet sock clad and body shivering in spite of the thick sweater he was wearing. Sirius frowned visibly and reached out to Regulus. 

“Come here,” he said, knowing he was not going to get an understandable answer. Sirius wrapped his arm around Regulus’s shoulders and used the other to loop under his brother’s knees, swinging the smaller man into Sirius’s arms. The elder brother carried the younger the small distance over to the bed, laying him down gently and carefully. Immediately, Regulus curled into the soft, cushiony material. Sirius chuckled and pulled the comforter and other blankets over his brother. Regulus clutched them almost unconsciously. With his fingers curled around the edges of the bedsheets and his body coiled up into a tiny ball he looked like a child.  _ He is a child _ , Sirius told himself, brushing the hair out of Regulus’s face.  _ A very sick child at that _ , he thought as his hand swept across his brother’s red hot forehead. 

Regulus’s breathing slowed gradually and eventually evened out into that of a deep sleep. Sirius sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on his brother’s shoulder. “Yeah, you get some rest, kid,” he whispered, softly patting his shoulder once before getting up. “I’m gonna go find you something without caffeine in it, okay?” He received no response from the sleeping Regulus.

Sirius sighed and heaved himself off of the bed, not bothering to close the door behind him. He left that floor of the house and made his way back to the first floor. He entered the kitchen and surveyed the room before him with skeptical eyes. Unfortunately for Sirius he had never taken the time to learn how to cook and Grimmauld Place’s resident chef, Molly Weasley, had been gone for a week now. Fortunately for Sirius she had left behind some food, most likely knowing how incapable Sirius was of cooking and how absent Remus and Tonks would be.  _ God bless that woman _ , Sirius thought, fully aware that he would never say those words out loud.

He opened one of the cupboards above the counter and pulled out the first container of food. 

“Mashed potatoes, no,” he mused, taking out more containers and judging them. “Casserole...no. Chicken parmesan, no. No...no, no. Ah!”

Sirius popped the lid off of a tupperware of what appeared to be chicken noodle soup. “Perfect.” He stacked the rest of the containers and jars precariously in the cupboard and shut it with his elbow. He grabbed a bowl out of the adjacent cupboard and poured some of the soup into it carefully, making sure not the drip any onto the counter. He pulled out his wand and murmured “ _ Callesco _ ”, the spell caused steam to rise from the soup and when Sirius reached for the bowl it was hot to touch. Smiling satiably to himself, Sirius turned around, bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, only to be stopped abruptly by the appearance of a small elf.

“What is Master Sirius doing?” Kreacher asked, the word Master dripping with unconcealed disdain.

“Getting soup, what does it look like?” Sirius scoffed, bypassing the creature with little effort. 

“For Master Regulus?” Kreacher continued, following Sirius out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, the kid’s sick,” Sirius mumbled, eager to leave the house-elf behind. 

“Regulus is sick?” Kreacher stopped in his tracks, his eyes even wider than usual. Sirius did in fact take note of the distinct lack of title preceding his younger brother’s name.

“Yes, he is sick,” Sirius breathed heavily, stopping as well. “And because we don’t have any potions here, or ingredients to  _ make _ any, and because I refuse to interact with Snivellus voluntarily, I’m bringing him soup. Happy?” 

Kreacher did not look happy, the farthest from it actually. “Kreacher can contact Professor Snape. Master Regulus needs to heal.”

“Kreacher,” Sirius sighed, annoyed, “Reg just has a cold, he’ll be fine.” Kreacher did not seem placated by this, so Sirius added, “Look, he’s going to need a lot of fluids, so try to find something non-caffeinated for him to drink later?”

This calmed the elf a bit and he nodded once before scurrying back to the kitchen. From the sounds of rummaging that came from the room, Sirius could deduce that his reluctant house-elf was doing exactly as he had asked. He shook his exasperatedly and continued his journey back to Regulus’s room. 

The room was exactly as he had left it, Regulus sound asleep on the bed with his shoes discarded on the floor. Sirius placed the bowl of soup on the desk next to the bed and pulled the chair out from it. He took a seat, swinging his left ankle to rest on his right knee. Sirius glanced around him, taking in his surroundings for the first time.

Regulus had chosen one of the many guest rooms as his own, the decor minimal and bland. A wardrobe rested against the far wall and another desk was nestled between the other side of the bed and the wall. A small box sat on said table, no doubt empty for years. On the desk next Sirius there was a thick book with a green, silk ribbon sticking out from the pages. He picked it up absentmindedly and read the cover, _A Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter_.

“Jesus Christ, Reg,” Sirius sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t read a book about herbs or some shit?” He received no answer from the prone figure before him. “Of course you can’t...because you’re you.” Sirius sighed and opened the book. He skipped past the author’s forward and started reading the first chapter, which was pleasantly titled “Necromancy vs. Necrophilia: an Important Distinction”.

After about half an hour of pages on failed alchemy experiments and dangerous spells that had very low success rates, Sirius’s reading was interrupted. Not that he was complaining. He was in the middle of the chapter exploring possible instances of resurrection that could have already occurred when a sound came from the bed next to him. He looked up from the book, eyes automatically narrowed in concern. Regulus’s face was scrunched up, his fingers clenched so tightly around the bunched up blankets that his knuckles were white, and his breaths were coming out fast and ragged. A similar sound of discomfort, this time louder, escaped his mouth.

Sirius set the book down slowly and went to crouch next to the side of the bed. “Regulus?” he asked, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Regulus jerked away from the contact, more noises of distress resulting from it. “Reg, calm down.” Regulus did not calm down, instead he began to thrash about, his legs kicking and arms jerking out. His elbow found its place in Sirius’s side, causing him to double over where he crouched. Sirius straightened up and reached out to grab his brother’s arms, pinning them down by his sides. 

“Stop! Let me go!” Regulus shouted in his sleep, startling Sirius and freezing his brother’s actions. “No!”

“Reg you have to calm down,” Sirius said, attempting to sound soothing. Regulus continued to shout, pleading to be let go and for Sirius, or whoever he was dreaming about, to stop. Sweat beads were prevalent on his forehead and it looked as though tears were starting to form in his fiercely shut eyes. “Reg, wake up! Please!”

Regulus continued to flail about on the bed, the sheets twisted around his body and his face showing an increasing amount of sheer terror. His battle against whatever threat he was dreaming about persisted and Sirius tried in vain to wake him up. This went on for a while until eventually Regulus shot up, eyes wide and breaths the speed of a rabbit. He didn’t seem to register Sirius sitting near him, his hands still loosely grasping Regulus’s arms. He didn’t register Sirius shifting to sit on the bed and moving his hands to his brother’s shoulders, either.

“Reg?” Sirius asked quietly, concern seeping through the word. Regulus was looking toward him, but not at him, as if Sirius was a ghost whom Regulus could see through. Sirius hadn’t known that eyes could be that big and full of fear. “Jesus Christ, Reg.” 

“Cold,” Regulus murmured, his voice thin and timorous. “Everything is cold.” The tears that had started to form behind his eyes began to slowly flow down his fever reddened cheeks.

Acting on impulse, Sirius pulled Regulus closer to him, gathering his younger brother in his arms and holding him tight. He rubbed his back gently and whispered reassuring words into his ear. “It’s okay, kiddo. Everything’s okay.”

“T-there’s so much water…,” Regulus stuttered and Sirius froze for a second again. “Cold, cold water. They won’t let go...why won’t they let go?”

Sirius had no answer to this question, one breathed out so numbly and so full of dread. The elder Black resumed his methods of calming his brother. “They’re gone, Reg,” he said, having no idea who they were. “You’re okay, don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Regulus continued to cry silently in his sick ridden and half asleep state. Eventually his tears stopped and his breathing slowed. Sirius was able to let go of his brother and lay him back down on the bed. He pulled the blankets back up over Regulus and was about to return to his seat, ready to watch over his brother’s sleep, when a hand shot out and grabbed his. Sirius stayed sitting on the bed and squeezed the younger Black’s hand in return. 

They stayed like that for a while, Sirius filling the role of a guard and Regulus’s heartbeat finally slowing down to a reasonable rate. 

“Is Master Regulus alright?” A croaky voice spooked Sirius, causing him to tighten his grip on his brother’s hand. Regulus’s breathing quickened almost immediately and his brother released his grip slowly, setting Regulus’s hand down on the bed. Sirius got up off of the bed, careful not to disturb Regulus further, and turned to face Kreacher. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, “yeah he’s fine.”

Kreacher nodded, for once not acting like Sirius was disgusting fungus stuck between his toes, and set a steaming hot mug of something on the table. He had to stand on his tiptoes to slide the cup next to the bowl of soup and book on necromancy. The house-elf stole a glance at his younger master before beginning his exit.

“Kreacher,” Sirius called quietly, causing the elf to turn and look at him, “does he have those dreams a lot? About...the water, and the cold, and....them?” 

Kreacher looked conflicted for a minute, but answered Sirius, “When Master Regulus sleeps he screams. He told Kreacher not to worry, but Kreacher does.”

“When he sleeps?” Sirius inquired. 

“Master Regulus is in the library at night.”

Sirius nodded, not at all happy with the answers he had been given. “Thank you Kreacher, you can leave.”

Kreacher seemed reluctant to depart. “I’ll watch over him,” Sirius found himself reassuring the elf. Kreacher nodded and let, closing the door quietly behind him. Sirius returned to his chair, scooting it closer to the bed, but left the book untouched. He kept his eyes fixed on Regulus, monitoring the rise and fall of his chest. 

_ We’re all in way over our heads here, aren’t we? _ He asked himself. As usual, he did not possess the answer and the only thing in the drafty room that held it was currently sleeping a foot away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...Regulus's behavior in the first half of this chapter was basically me for two days. Fun times. My mouth hurts....


	13. What Little Boys Are Made Of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, I'm alive. Just a heads up, there's a lot of stuff in italics that isn't mine (lines from a few poems and nursery rhymes). I'm putting a list of credits at the end note.

Sirius dreamed of running.

Paws hit leaf covered ground and tore grass out from the dirt. Mud coated black fur and a twig hung from a shaggy tail. Tall trees loomed over him, watchful guardians looking over him as he ran through the light they let between their branches. He could hear the soft clomping noise of hooves on wet leaves to his right, and the pitter pattering of tiny paws to his left. Ahead of him a wolf howled. A bark escaped his throat and his legs moved faster, propelling him forward. If a dog could smile he was most definitely smiling.

The guardians that took the forms of trees disappeared from above him, leaving him alone under a starless sky. The sounds of hooves and paws faded into the night and the wolf’s howl changed to one of pain and no matter how fast he ran he couldn’t seem to catch up to it. Sirius was alone, panting loudly into the quiet around him. He spun around in confusion and fear, he could see the twig hanging from his tail in the corner of his eye. Sirius lay down on the leafy floor, a whine of discomfort escaped him as he pushed his muzzle into the dirt.

Somewhere too far away from him the wolf howled up at the crescent moon that sneered down at him. It shone brighter than it ever had before and Sirius knew that it had stolen the stars.

_How can anyone find their way home without the stars to guide them?_ The question still echoed in his mind when he opened his eyes and found himself human, in Regulus’ room, and slouched uncomfortably in a chair. There was no moon, there were no stars that had left him, and no wolves howling. He was once again, alone.

The sound of slurping caused him to correct that thought.

Sirius turned to see Regulus sitting up in his bed, legs crossed and bowl of soup in both hands. His cheeks were still flushed, his hair was even messier, and his sweater seemed to hang off of his frame more than it had before Sirius dreamed of starless skies.

“Oh, you’re awake,” was all Regulus said as Sirius rubbed sleep from his eyes. The younger brother continued to spoon soup into his mouth, his own eyes tired and red.

“Yeah,” Sirius stood up, stretching his legs. “You feeling better?”

Regulus shrugged, swallowing slowly. “I guess.” Sirius searched his face but either Regulus didn’t remember the night before, or he was very good at hiding it. _He’s very good at hiding a lot of things_ , the elder Black reminded himself, walking over to the bed. Sirius sat down, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. Regulus’s eyes peered curiously over the bowl, confusion mingling with surprise in those clear, gray irises.       

“How are you feeling, really?” Sirius didn’t look away from his brother.

Regulus bit his lower lip. “Sick, obviously.”

“And?”

“And...I dunno,” his brow furrowed, “normal?”

“Normal for you isn’t really normal,” Sirius pressed.

“How would you know?” Regulus asked, his voice accusatory.

“I know more than you think I do,” the elder sibling brushed his hair out of his face.

Regulus slurped some of his soup. “Like what?”

“Like that you’re not okay,” Sirius finally said, the words felt like tears shed in the rain. “You always say you are, but you’re not.”

“I told you, I’m sick,” Regulus placed the mostly empty bowl on the table next to the bed.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

Gray against gray, eyes piercing into one another. Hooves hit damp leaves in the corner of Sirius’s mind, _Not him._ Not a stag and not a lion. Almost a snake but not quite, slinking under the shadows and through the stars. _What are you???_

“I just...I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all,” Regulus’s hand shot to the back of his neck.

“So I’ve noticed,” Sirius said. “Noticed again last night.”

Regulus sniffled. “What did you notice exactly?”

“You don’t remember?” Searching those eyes was like trying to throw a punch underwater, always slower than you want and never quite reaching its destination.

“Remember what?”

“You had a nightmare last night.” Direct hit. No, not a hit. It wasn’t like punching underwater, it was like shining a flashlight through smoke. A mess of gray, floating and swirling in no attainable pattern, light reflecting and holding parts but never showing anything until the smoke slowed and there was one moment of clarity, something seen past it, and then it was gone. In an instant. Foggy once more.

“I’m sick, people tend to have nightmares when they’re sick,” Regulus deflected easily and the smoke masked Sirius yet again. _So fake that smile, hide those tears, life is made of smoke and mirrors._ “When you have a fever you sometimes have weird dreams because higher body temperature produces hallucinations and vivid imagery. During rapid-eye-movement sleep we have very poor temperature control, so having a fever only increases the chance of nightmares.”

“Except you weren’t dreaming.” _When truth sinks in and lies collapse, will freedom finally bridge the gaps?_ “You were remembering.”

Regulus gave no response. The smoke was still there, but it was a thin screen and Sirius could now see through it. Behind it hid a boy. Scared and deathly quiet, very small, and utterly, _terrifyingly_ , alone. How did the old nursery rhyme go? ‘ _What are little boys made of? Snips and snails and puppy-dogs' tails, that's what little boys are made of._ ’ This little boy wasn’t. He was made of ice and fire, black smoke that refused to clear, blood and sweat and tears, and all the shadows that other little boys shied away from.

“You didn’t just drown, you _were drowned_.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, one that the shadow boy did not refute.

Silence.

“So what if I was?” It was clear and cut, almost defiant in nature. _Snips and snails and puppy-dogs’ tails._

“So what if-Reg!” A small flinch. Whether it was in response to the raise of voice or the use of the name, Sirius did not know. “We were...we were told that Voldemort had you killed. Having you drowned is something else.”

It took a moment for Regulus to respond. He drew his sweater around him, pulling it back up on his shoulder. “He didn’t.”

“What?”

“He didn’t drown me,” Regulus didn’t meet his eyes. Sirius found himself wishing he could at least see the smoke. “Voldemort I mean. And he didn’t have anyone else do it either.”

“Then how…?” he stopped myself before the question formed, Fate’s words echoing in his ears. “Reg, you’ve always been a fine swimmer. You always loved it.”

“I did,” his tone was wistful and far away. For a moment Sirius could see the boy he remembered, one who was made of snips and snails and puppy-dogs’ tails. Then the boy made of nightmares returned. “I don’t anymore.”

( _I'll tell you a story about Jack a Nory, and now my story's begun. I’ll tell you another of Jack and his brother, and now my story is done._ )

“The boggart…,” Sirius trailed off, not really meaning to, “it was an Inferius, wasn’t it?”

Silence.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t always.”

The ghost of a smile, like someone remembering a time when once they could laugh, but couldn’t anymore. “No, it wasn’t.” The ghost vanished. “When I was ten, over the winter holiday, Bella came home from school. She had someone managed to get her hands on a Swooping Evil. They’re these large, butterfly-like creatures, they look almost harmless, except their teeth. They feed on people’s brains. Bella thought that it would be fun to scare me with it, but it got out of her grasp and went after me. If Uncle Cygnus hadn’t walked in I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

Sirius had stayed at Hogwarts over that winter holiday. And all the others.

“But it’s not a Swooping Evil anymore,” Sirius met his brother’s eyes. There the little boy was, screaming silently, in the way only a child who’s learned the hard way to quiet his pain can.

Regulus shook his head.

“You acted as though you barely remembered.”

( _Knowing I could make him no reply, I took the gag before he could say more and put it back as tight as it would tie, and locked the door and locked the door and locked the door._ )

“We remember everything in dreams,” came his response. “They’re only wisps of memory, too little to make out a picture, but enough to know to be scared of it.”

The two brothers sat in silence, neither speaking of moving. All that could be heard was their faint breathing and the sound of rain. _Tears shed in the rain_.

In a house like this, Sirius had learned long ago, there were secrets hidden in every corner. Behind every tapestry and behind every vase. Under every desk and on top of every tall shelf. If you knew where to look you could find them. Kept buried in dark corners and in the shadows nestling below staircases. And some secrets, the darkest and ugliest, hid in the corners of minds and behind the eyes of children. Eyes filled with smoke to hide the horrors. Horrors that took the form of boys who learned not to wake the house with their tears.  

“You’re...you’re not going to ask?” Regulus was biting his lower lip again. Sirius didn’t have to say _Ask what?_ He knew what he wasn’t going to ask, and what Regulus expected him to.

“No, I’m not going to ask,” Sirius’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re not ready to answer. But when you are, I won’t have to ask. I’ll listen.”

Regulus didn’t say anything.

( _The night was dark, no father was there, the child was wet with dew. The mire was deep, and the child did weep, and away the vapour flew._ )

“Get some more sleep Reg.” _And if the nightmares strike, I’ll be there_ , Sirius promised himself, not Regulus.

He rose to leave the bed, a hand stopped him. Lithe fingers gripped his sleeve and Regulus’s eyes of smoke did not meet his. The fingers left his sleeve and suddenly there were arms around his middle and Sirius couldn’t breathe. For if he breathed what might happen then? Tentatively, with the same care one puts into handling a bird with a broken wing, he wrapped his arms around his little brother’s shoulders. He held him close, fearing that if he let him go he would never get him back again.

Somewhere, hidden under the ice and the fire, the black smoke, the blood and the sweat and the tears, and the shadows, there was still a little boy made of snips and snails and puppy-dogs’ tails.

* * *

Sirius took each step slowly, descending down the staircase at his own, leisurely pace. He had left Regulus in his bed, a blanket drawn up over him and a book on the pillow next to him, so he wouldn’t be too lonely when he woke. Kreacher was there, standing guard, with strict instructions to get Sirius should Regulus experience any “weird dreams” again.

He made his way to the kitchen and felt no surprise to see Remus sitting at the table, a cup of tea in front of him.

“I was wondering when I’d see you this morning,” he reached for the cup and took a sip of the dark, pinkish liquid. _Pomegranate tea_ , Sirius’s mind supplied. “I assume Regulus is asleep.”

“Um, yeah, he is,” the dog animagus sat down next to his friend.

“He feeling any better?”

“I think so,” Sirius nodded. “He at least looks better, not as pale. Still has a fever though.”

Remus nodded with them. “Hopefully it’s just a twenty-four hour thing and’ll be gone by tomorrow at the latest.”

“Hopefully.” Sirius wasn’t looking at Remus, but at the table. His mind traced patterns on the wood. All he could see was smoke.

“Hey, Padfoot, you alright mate?” His head shot up.

“Me? I’m fine,” Sirius offered a brief smile that vanished too quickly to have been real.

“Sirius, what’s going on?” Remus lowered his cup to the table and leaned forward. Sirius debated answering with the truth for a minute and decided on a vague version of it.

“I’m just worried, about Regulus.”

Remus raised his eyebrows, concerned. “Do you think it’s serious? I’m sure it’s just a bad cold, you really don’t have anything to be worried about.”

“No, it’s not that,” Sirius cut in, shaking his head.

“Then what is it?”

Sirius sighed. The smoke was gone now, all that remained was the table. “I...I didn’t know him well, before he died. Hell I barely even knew him when I still lived with the kid. But I don’t...I don’t remember him being like _this_.” He looked up to meet his friend’s eyes.

Remus’s expression turned to one of sympathy and pity. “Sirius you didn’t know him at all during the war.”

“But the war’s over! Or at least _that one_ is,” Sirius started.

“Not for him it isn’t,” Remus smiled a mirthless smile. “You and I, Sirius, it’s over for us. Has been for almost two decades now. Sure, those years haven’t been easy on us. I was alone for the majority of them, living off of barely anything, and you were in jail, surrounded by Dementors the whole time. But it was over, _is_ over. We’ve had sixteen years to come to terms with it all, to get used to life without war. He hasn’t.”

Sirius found himself picturing Regulus as he was now, eighteen, in dark robes, a Death Eater mask, and a wand clutched tightly with trembling fingers too young to even know how to hold a girl’s hand properly. The image terrified him.

Remus continued, “You remember how it was. The constant looking over your shoulder. Whispering defensive spells under your breath out of habit rather than practice. Jumping at every little noise. Reading lists of the dead, hoping no one you knew was mentioned. Going to bed every night thinking today was your last. Not being able to sleep because every time you closed your eyes you saw the bodies of your classmates.”

Sirius did remember.

“That was years ago for us,” Remus’s voice was low, as if he was talking to a small child. And in this moment Sirius almost felt like one. “For him it was practically yesterday. He hasn’t had time to adjust to life without war, and he’s about to be thrust back into another one. We’ve had _years_ to come to terms with the deaths of our friends and loved ones. He found out only a few weeks ago. Evan Rosier was one of his best friends. Both his parents died. That’s...that’s not easy to take, especially when everyone around you is acting like it happened years ago. Because for him it didn’t happen years ago. For him it never did.”

Remus laid a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. He grabbed his cup and rose from his chair. His hand slipped off when he walked away, probably to get some more pomegranate tea.    

Sirius was once again reminded of a children’s nursery rhyme, one about magpies. It was an old superstition, the number of magpies you saw determined the luck you would have.

_One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl, Four for a boy, Five for silver, Six for gold, Seven for a secret, Never to be told. Eight for a wish, Nine for a kiss, Ten for a bird, You must not miss._

Sirius stared at the table, once again seeing smoke instead of wood. Smoke that a little boy, a boy without dark robes and a mask and a shaking wand, hid behind. _How many magpies have you seen, Regulus?_ He was scared to know the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits:   
> Smoke and Mirrors by E.A. England  
> What Are Little Boys Made Of? 19th century nursery rhyme  
> Jack a Nory, old English nursery rhyme  
> The Lie by Don Patterson  
> The Little Boy Lost by William Blake  
> One for Sorrow, 18th nursery rhyme

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on AO3, this story is also up on fanfiction.net. I'm not that great at writing, as you have seen, but I hope to improve as time goes on. Sorry for general OOCness and other shitty things that will likely ensue. Anyway, thanks for reading!


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